Dauntless High School
by Killer Llamas
Summary: Four is the new kid at Dauntless High. He befriends Zeke and the gang, and there's a girl that catches his eye. The problem? She already has a boyfriend. Eventual fourtris. High school AU.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

 _ **TRIS**_

* * *

"Honey!" my boyfriend calls jokingly from downstairs. "I brought you something pretty!"

"I'm in my room!" I call back. I hear his giggling as he makes his way up the stairs, amused with whatever he's done this time.

Uriah walks in obscured by a stop sign, and I laugh back. He leans it against the wall and waves his arms to point at it dramatically. "Happy unbirthday," he grins and sits down on my bed.

"Perfect," I laugh. "I can't believe Al stole a stop sign. I really thought he was going to chicken out." I pull my t-shirt off over my head as I cross the room to my open closet, barely dodging Uriah's attempt to grab me around the waist.

"I guess he's tired of being the first one drunk at parties and embarrassing himself in front of half the school," Uriah says. That's the penalty for refusing or failing to complete a dare: at the next party, you have to take five straight shots and sing karaoke to whatever song the gang chooses. Each time Al takes his penalty, I almost want to argue that we show him mercy. Only because he is completely and totally tone deaf, listening to him sing is more painful than it is funny. It's a relief that for once, Al didn't refuse Uriah's dare.

I toss my t-shirt in the laundry hamper and scan the contents of my closet. The skinny jeans I have on are fine, so I just choose a cute black top and pull it off the hanger.

"Woah, hang on there," Uriah protests as I prepare to pull the top over my head. He pulls me by my hips and I fall into his lap. Uriah trails his fingers up my bare stomach. "It looked like you were about to put more clothes _on._ If you ask me, you're totally going the wrong direction there." I giggle and press my lips to his. Uriah quickly kisses me back, pressing me closer with his hand against the small of my back, and I wrap my arms around his neck in return.

But before he can turn this into a full-on makeout session (or more), I pull away. "Not now, Uri. We're supposed to be at Christina's in…" I glance at the clock by my bed and my eyes widen. "Ten minutes. And I haven't even fixed my make-up yet!" I stand and quickly pull on the top that had fallen to the floor, then hop up and glance in the mirror. "And my hair." In the mirror's reflection I can see Uriah pouting behind me and I roll my eyes.

Five minutes later, I have brushed my hair, touched up my makeup, and pulled on my black converse. I leave my truck in the garage and ride with Uri in his Jeep. I first became friends with Uriah and his twin brother Zeke when I moved to Chicago in third grade. We've been inseparable for half our lives now, but somehow about a year and a half ago, friendship was no longer enough for either of us. The brothers have been the people I can rely on through everything, at my best and at my worst. They're just there for me in different ways now, obviously.

"Are Chris's parents home?" Uriah asks while he parks at the curb in front of Christina's house.

"I don't think so," I answer. "If they were going to be home, she wouldn't have invited us. We'd have been at my house or yours."

Uriah rolls his eyes and reaches behind my seat to grab a case of beer. "Zeke and I spent all day cleaning up, I'm not ready to do that again yet. It would've been yours, not mine." They had their usual friday night post-game party, which half the school showed up to. I can attest, the place was completely trashed when I woke up there this morning.

I hop out of the Jeep and wait for him on the sidewalk. "It was worse before I left. Didn't you notice the two trash bags in the kitchen filled with beer cans?" I ask as we start up the walk to Christina's house. "Did you think the cleaning fairy visited? No, that was your girlfriend, thank you very much."

"Thanks, babe," Uriah grins, and gives me a sloppy kiss before we walk in without knocking. Christina's house is sleek and modern and just about everything is black and white. It's a dangerous place to allow Uriah and Zeke to hang out― one of them will probably spill something on the white carpet or sofa by the end of the night.

Shauna sits on the couch, and her step-sister, Lynn, is next to her with a black throw pillow in her hands. Zeke is in an armchair across from her with his feet on the coffee table, and Shauna steals occasional glances at him. She's had a crush on Zeke forever, but he's too busy hooking up with a new girl each week to notice.

Uriah plops the case of beer on the coffee table and starts tossing cans to people. I catch one and consider for a moment whether to drink it. One of us has to be the designated driver, and I know it won't be Uri. Still, I can drink one now and be perfectly sober to drive home by the time we leave in a few hours, so I sit down next to him on the love seat and pop the top open. After taking a long sip, I lean into his side with my legs curled under me.

Christina comes out of the kitchen, followed by Will, Marlene and Al, and shoots me a glare. " _Finally_ , everyone is here," she says. She and Will cuddle up at the other end of the couch, and Al sits in the last open seat, another armchair.

Most of us have been friends since grade school. Lynn joined the group when her dad married Shauna's mom in sixth grade. I guess you could say that my friends and I are popular; all of us girls, except Lynn, are cheerleaders, and most of the boys are on the football team, all but Christina's boyfriend, Will. I love my friends and they are more like family to me. Most of the time I am wary of anyone trying to buddy up to me; usually, they're only after the status boost, and I have no interest in being used like that.

The last time we allowed anyone new to worm their way into our tight-knit group was when Christina started dating Will. I would never have expected Christina to go for a guy like Will, he isn't her usual type. She usually likes dumb jocks; he's one of the smartest guys in our class, and while Will is athletic, he isn't a football or basketball star, but rather runs cross-country and specializes in the butterfly stroke on the swim team. But when he was assigned to tutor Christina in Algebra II last spring, they somehow hit it off. Will has been a part of the group ever since, bringing Al along with him. I do like Will, though so it turned out fine, unlike the last time someone tried to join our group of friends. And Al isn't any trouble. A little bland, and I sometimes wonder if he's ever had a single independent thought, but he's harmless.

"So, Al," I say. "I hear you finally completed a dare. Uri decided to hide the evidence in my bedroom."

"Yep, no shots for me next weekend," Al chuckles.

Christina gratefully adds, "And no singing!"

"Well, you're up, then," Will says. We've been playing this game since the summer before last: an ongoing game of Dare. After you complete a dare, you choose the next person and dare them to do something and set the time limit. When Uriah dared Al to steal the stop sign, he gave Al two days to complete his mission.

"Okay," Al says. He looks around the room, eyes unfocused, then stops on me. His ears turn a little red. "Tris," he says. "I dare you to kiss someone in this room… but it can't be Uriah."

I groan right along with every one of my friends. That's no fun… what a lame dare! Al is trying to be nice and go easy on me, no doubt, but I'm the one that came up with this version of the game; I like the challenge! There is no challenge in this one. I'll have to make up for it when I give the next dare.

I bite my lip and look around the room. Uriah isn't really the jealous type, and I have no interest in kissing anyone but him, but we just had a fight earlier this week and made up yesterday morning. I'd rather not rock the boat by kissing his brother or something. So I decide on my best option, stand, and cross the room to the couch. Christina glares at me thinking I am going to kiss her boyfriend, but instead, I grab her face with both hands and pull her in for a kiss. Just for fun and to give the boys a little show, I draw it out a bit before letting go of her and snuggling back up to my boyfriend.

"Damn, you're a pretty good kisser, Tris," Christina laughs.

"Alright, well, that was easy," I say rolling my eyes. I look around the room for any ideas of what dare I can give when my eyes settle on the bookshelf. Christina's copy of Animal Farm from English class last month lays carelessly on top of a bunch of other, neatly arranged books, and a devious smile slowly curls at my lips. I know just the person to complete this dare.

"Zeke," I say, and he mock-salutes me. "I dare you to fill the atrium at school with farm animals, as a tribute to our evil dictator, Principal Matthews, within the next four days."

Shauna and Marlene both gasp, and Zeke's eyes go wide. "But there's no way to get to the atrium from outside," he protests. I smirk; Zeke has never refused a dare, almost never even argues about one like he is now.

"So?" I say. "I'm sure you'll find a way."

"I'll help," Uriah offers. "We'll get some ladders. Go over the roof. Tris, we'll need your truck when we go to 'borrow' the animals." Hell no, they aren't borrowing my truck! I'll just have to go along, drive it myself.

Zeke and Uriah continue making plans for a few minutes until Christina gets annoyed and changes the subject. Al tells us a rumor he heard about a new kid joining the football team; I don't believe it, this rumor's been going around for weeks and no one has shown up. It's already the end of September and I've never heard of anyone starting mid-season, anyway; Uriah claims that the guy is just that good, that they'll let him join late.

After we watch a movie, Zeke checks in with his brother. "You coming home tonight? Or staying with Tris?" he asks.

"I'll stay with Tris," Uriah says without looking to check with me. I've been practically living alone since shortly after Mom died. My brother, Caleb, is away at college; Dad is gone on business for months at a time, never staying long when he does come home. Uriah and Zeke both know how lonely I get living all alone. Then again, it's practically the same for Zeke and Uriah: their mom is home more than my dad, but they're on their own more often than not.

Besides, Uri is five beers in. If he's with me, I can make sure he doesn't do anything too dangerous or stupid.

Zeke mumbles something about calling Madison to come over; she must be his flavor of the week. Gross.

"You ready to get out of here?" Uriah whispers in my ear, then kisses my neck and gently squeezes my hip.

"Mmmhmm," I hum and pluck the keys out of his pocket before standing up.

I grab the almost empty box of beer and lead my slightly unsteady boyfriend out of Christina's house and to his Jeep.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

 _ **FOUR**_

* * *

My new school is in chaos. Through a set of double doors ahead of me I see bars painted on the windows and, beyond them, adults chase around animals. A woman in a blue floral dress is trying to wrangle a pig, a man with a comb-over is leading a sheep to the door by a rope around its neck, chickens flutter their wings… what the hell kind of place is this? I shake my head and enter the office.

Even though we moved a month ago, I've been commuting to my old school across town until today; some of the registration forms required the signatures of _both_ of my legal guardians, and my father wouldn't sign. It was a power play, and I am trying not to wonder what demands my mother must have given in to in return for his signature.

The bell for first period rings, and I still haven't been acknowledged. The wait probably has something to do with the farm animals in the atrium. Glancing over the back through the window, I see an older lady leading a goat through the foyer.

A woman with dark skin and her hair hanging over one side of her face, trying (and failing) to hide a scar over one eye, hurries behind the counter and smiles at me distractedly. "I'm sorry you've had to wait. I'm the school counselor, Ms. Reyes. But I'll try to help you… as you can see this is a very hectic morning here."

"Uh, yeah," I say as I slide my registration papers across to her. I don't know what's happening in this place today but I already assumed this wasn't a typical morning.

She looks them over quickly and nods. "Have a seat while I process these, Tobias."

"Oh, um, could you make my name show up as Four in the class rosters? I don't go by Tobias."

"Sure, dear," she nods with a smile and a vacant look in her eyes. Shaking my head I go sit in one of the chairs lined up near the door.

Just as I sit down, a boy my age with tan skin, curly dark hair and a cocky smirk comes in following an angry looking woman with blond hair and a clothes that do nothing to hide her muffin top. They shut the door after entering an office; the name plate reads "Ms. Matthews, Principal." I wince; no doubt that boy is in trouble.

It takes forever for Ms. Reyes to input all the information into the computer and generate my schedule. She still isn't done when the boy comes out of the principal's office. He's grinning victoriously, but Ms. Matthews has a deep scowl on her face as she shuts her office door and walks briskly out of the office.

"Zeke," Ms. Reyes calls out, "could you please wait for a minute? I'm almost done here and would appreciate it if you would show Four to his first class."

"You got it, Ms. R," he says. Who wouldn't want to miss even more school without risk of being caught cutting class?

The boy―Zeke―plops down casually into a chair, leaving one vacant between us. "Hey," he says, "I'm Zeke."

I nod at him. "Four."

"Like the number?" Zeke asks. I internally groan, everyone questions my name, but just nod. But then he just says, "Cool."

Despite having just left the principal's office, he looks totally relaxed with his arms slung over the backs of the chairs on either side. "I take it you didn't get in trouble in there," I observe.

Zeke laughs. "Matthews thought I was responsible for the little situation in the atrium," he tells me. "She's especially pissed because the person painted 'Matthews' Animal Farm' on one of the windows." He looks at me with a satisfied smirk. "You know, like the book. They made us read it end of last year."

I had to read that too; they're implying that she is a dictator. I slowly grin. "What made them think you had something to do with that?"

"They may have figured out that I never back out of a dare," he smirks and shrugs. "They got nothing on me." This kid has like a permanent grin.

"Alright―Zeke, Four," Ms. Reyes calls out. We both get up and meet her at the reception counter. "Four, here is your schedule; this paper has your locker number and combination. Zeke will help you find your first class." The bell rings. "Well, your second class. And Zeke, I will make sure that you are excused from first period."

"Thanks, Ms. R," he smiles. "And I'm sorry I couldn't help narrow down who might have pulled that prank with the farm animals." I hold back my laugh. The innocent look he's faking is pretty convincing.

"That's alright, Zeke," Ms. Reyes says warily. "Now show Four to class, please."

There are still a few staff members herding the animals on the other side of the atrium doors when we pass. Zeke stops off to the side and grabs my schedule out of my hands and informs me that we we aren't in the same class second hour, but he'll show me where my classroom is before he goes to his. He talks about football as he leads me to my locker, and I learn that he's the starting running back. I'm glad he's the first person I met since I've already been assured a place on the team as a quarterback; whether I'm in the starting line-up only depends on how practice goes this afternoon.

A guy runs up to Zeke as I open my locker. He has similar coloring to Zeke and I see a few similarities in their features, but this guy is several inches taller. "So? How did it go? Mar said you didn't come back to class," he asks Zeke anxiously. "We good?"

"Yeah, bro, we're in the clear. Uri, this is Four. He's new." I nod at the kid. "Four, this is my twin brother, Uriah."

We shake hands and Uriah shoots me an easy smile. "Nice to meet you, man. Okay, I gotta get to class. See you later."

I don't really talk to anyone in my AP European History class, though the girl next to me smiles and bats her eyelashes at me. I glance at my schedule and see that there are three more classes before lunch. Zeke didn't mention whether we had any classes together, and I don't know if he'd want me to sit with him even if we did. Class drags on, and finally the bell rings.

I get lost on the way to trigonometry, but manage to figure it out and arrive to the correct classroom just moments before the bell rings. Luckily the teacher seems to be running late too.

Instead of being arranged in rows, the desks are in groups of four, with two sets of two facing each other; it kind of reminds me of elementary school. Most of the seats are filled, but there's a whole desk grouping in the back that is completely empty. I don't want to invite myself into someone else's circle, so I sit in the empty group of desks. At all the other tables students are talking to their friends, except a group of nerdy looking kids who already have their textbooks open. I pull out my phone and scroll through my facebook feed, though I haven't seen or talked to most of the people on my friends list in nearly a year, not since my father, Marcus, got a promotion last year and moved us from Indiana to Chicago.

The door opens and I look up expecting to see the teacher, but instead there's a girl walking toward my table. She sees me and frowns; she's probably used to sitting here alone. I look her petite, perfect body up and down before I realize what I'm doing, and how obvious it probably is that I'm checking her out. As she sits down across from me my eyes settle on her face and my mouth goes dry.

Her long, wavy blond hair falls past her shoulders and has a few blue streaks in it near the front. Her makeup is light and mostly natural-looking on her flawless white skin, other than the black eyeliner that makes her round, pale blue eyes stand out. My gaze falls to her lips, which are painted a natural looking pink, before going back to her gorgeous eyes… which are now staring back at me. She's the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.

"What?" she says. Shit, I have been staring at her for who knows how long.

"Uh, nothing," I stutter and I scratch the back of my neck. "Is the teacher usually so late?"

She smirks. "I saw her carrying a stray chicken on my way here, and watched it take a crap on her shoe. She'll probably be a few minutes." She looks just as satisfied as Zeke did earlier, and I wonder if she was involved as well. She looks me over for a moment. "I'm Tris, by the way."

I smile. "Four."

She nods. "Yeah, Zeke mentioned you." Her phone buzzes and she pulls it out and soon starts tapping away responding to a text message.

For the next few minutes, her eyes stay glued to her phone, occasionally smiling as keeps texting; I uselessly scroll my instagram feed, though I glance up at her frequently. The teacher eventually comes in and begins the lesson. She arrived so late that she doesn't have time to finish teaching today's lesson, so she lets us go without any homework for tonight, but the promise of double the homework tomorrow. I notice that Tris doesn't seem to be paying attention but instead doodles in her notebook or texts from under the desk.

As soon as the bell rings, Tris grabs her backpack and leaves the classroom without another word to me, but my eyes follow her until she disappears out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Thank you so much to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed! I was so excited to read them. They weren't showing up on the site for a couple days but I did get them in my email which was awesome. Anyway, here's another chapter, I hope you like it. Oh! And message me if you have awesome ideas for dares and stuff!

* * *

 _ **FOUR**_

* * *

I'm still thinking about Tris while I walk to Economics class, even though I really should be focused on finding my way around this school. I've had girlfriends before as well as short-lived flings, never anything very serious. But I'm not sure I've ever embarrassed myself quite like I did an hour ago when she caught me checking her out.

Wait, where am I? I need to find room 129 and I just passed 142. I shake my head and groan, then look at the nearby rooms to see which direction I should be going.

A hand lightly touches my arm and I turn to see a girl with straight black hair and green eyes. She's pretty, but would probably be more attractive with a bit less makeup. "Hi, I'm Lauren," she says with a shy smile that doesn't quite suit her. "I haven't seen you around before and you look a little lost."

I chuckle. "Yeah, you could say that. I have Econ― room 129. I think it's that way?"

Lauren bites her lip and nods. "That's my class too. Walk me there?"

"Uh, sure," I say. She pushes her books into my hands. I wonder why she doesn't just carry them in her backpack like most of the other students.

I start walking next to her, following her lead. I can hear the click of her high heels with every step she takes. "I don't think caught your name."

"Oh, sorry, I'm Four."

"Four? How'd you get that name? Number on your football jersey?" she asks. It's not why I chose to go by the name Four, but it _is_ my jersey number, so I just agree with her anyway. It's always easier to go with the simplest explanation, even if it isn't the truth. "So you must be that hot shot quarterback I've heard all the rumors about." She stops outside the door to the classroom, so I do too, off to the side of the passing time foot traffic.

"Rumors?" I ask.

"Yeah," she smirks. "There have been rumors for weeks that some transfer was going to be joining the football team mid-season, which is unusual. Peter won't like it if you bump him from his spot in the starting line-up. I'd rather cheer for you, though." She looks up at me through her eyelashes.

"Oh, so you're a cheerleader?" I ask, feeling a little awkward. I've been nervous about the flack I might get for disrupting the team's hierarchy in the middle of the season, and from what she just said, I was right.

Lauren giggles and lightly hits my arm. "Of course, silly!"

The hallway has begun to empty as students enter their classrooms, trying to beat the bell. I hand back her books. "That's cool," I say. "Well… we should get in there."

Zeke is sitting backwards on a desk near the windows talking to a girl with light brown hair at the desk behind him. He spots me right away and waves me over. I quickly thank Lauren and sit in the empty desk to the girl's right.

Zeke looks to the seat on my right and narrows his eyes. I turn to see who he's staring at and am a little startled to find that Lauren is there. "Don't you usually sit on the other side of the room, Lauren?" Zeke asks.

Lauren smiles sweetly. "I just thought I'd try sitting with you guys today."

"No," Zeke's friends says, "I think what you actually meant was that you've worked your way through the rest of the football team so you thought you'd be the first to slut it up with the new kid. We don't want you here, Lauren. Go back to your skanky little friends."

Lauren huffs and snatches her books off the desk before getting up. I turn back to Zeke and his friend and hear Lauren's heels clicking on the tile. The sound fades as she crosses the room. I raise my eyebrows at Zeke and his friend. She smirks at me. "Bad history," she says dismissively. She holds out a hand. "I'm Shauna, and you must be Four."

I shake her hand and raise an eyebrow at Zeke. "I didn't know my presence here would be such big news. Last period, Tris said you'd already mentioned me to her, too."

"Tris didn't believe the rumors, so obviously I had to rub it in her face," Zeke scoffs.

Shauna rolls her eyes. "And he just couldn't wait to gloat that he was the first to meet you."

"It seems like you'd already have a few other claims to fame," I observe. So far I know that he is a starter on the football team and he is known for elaborate pranks.

"Attention whore," Shauna sings while she grins at Zeke.

"Ouch." Zeke holds his hands over his heart dramatically, and I laugh. "That hurts, Shauna. It really does." Even as he says this, he can't completely hide his smile. I can't deny that Zeke is likeable, that's for sure.

* * *

Shauna led me to my fifth period English class, which she was in as well, and once we got there I met her step-sister, Lynn. Lynn seemed… interesting. She wears her pixie-cut hair standing up in red-tipped spikes and scowls so much that it made me think of how my mother used to tell me that if I kept frowning my face might freeze that way. I always thought that was a lie, but now that I've met Lynn, I think there might be something to it.

Tris is also in my English class. I sat behind Lynn and Shauna sat next to me, behind Tris. A girl who introduced herself as Nicole sat on my other side and she made an effort to talk to me several times. She's pretty enough, and I tried to be polite, but I was distracted again by Tris's presence. She's just so beautiful.

It is now lunchtime. Tris and Shauna brought sack lunches, so Lynn has been charged with showing me where the group sits, since she went through the lunch line as well today. She didn't say a word to me the whole time in line, and she still hasn't spoken as we walk through the halls. That's fine with me; I've never been someone who needs to fill silence with small talk.

We end up at the end of a hallway where a group of about eight teenagers is sprawled out on the floor, some sitting cross-legged, others with their feet sticking out to the middle of the walkway, or even on a boyfriend's lap; one couple is kissing. There are several familiar faces, I see Zeke sitting across from Shauna; there's a blond boy I think may have been in my history class. But I do a double-take when I find Tris sitting comfortably on Uriah's lap. I didn't see her at first because I couldn't see well when she was sucking face with the boy I remember to be Zeke's brother. It's hard to swallow past the lump in my throat.

There is no reason I should be bothered seeing her with Uriah. I've barely spoken to her, and she wasn't even particularly friendly when I did. But I still don't like seeing her with another guy, and I force myself to look away.

"Four!" Zeke yells. "Come sit down. This is Al, Will, Christina, and Marlene." He points to each of them as he says their names. "You've already met everyone else, right?"

"Yeah, I have. Nice to meet you all."

"So… what's with the number name?" Christina asks. She has mocha skin and short black hair, and sits with Will's arm wrapped around her. I think I recognize Will from my second period history class.

I put on a hard, intimidating expression. "Is there a problem with my name?"

"Uh, no…" she says quietly. "I mean, I figured it was like, I don't know, your football jersey number or your grade point average or something."

"Something like that," I shrug. Grade point average, hadn't thought of that. I do, indeed, maintain a 4.0 My father, Marcus, insists upon it. Nothing short of perfection is tolerated in his house.

"Okay…" Zeke says as I take a bite out of my burrito, "moving on. Four is about to witness the dare game in action. As you all saw, I, the King of Dare―"

" _King of Dare_?" Tris laughs.

Zeke narrows his eyes at her. "Yes. King of Dare, Trissy." Tris rolls her eyes and throws a chip at him, and he tries to catch it in his mouth but misses. It nails him in the eye, which he rubs with his fist as he continues. "As I was saying, I, _the King of Dare,_ " he stares at her and emphasizes each word, "completed a very challenging dare. So, my turn!"

Marlene leans towards me and explains the rules of their ongoing game of Dare as Zeke decides on the next victim. Zeke narrows his eyes and slowly looks around the group until I see his gaze settle on me. He abruptly looks away and I watch as he and Tris seem to have a silent conversation using only their eyes and facial expressions. With a final, firm shake of Tris's head, Zeke returns to his task, and the idea of giving me a dare seems to be forgotten.

"Christina!" Zeke announces. "I dare you to give a makeover…" Christina's face lights up, she looks like she wants to do a happy dance. "...to the Benjamin Franklin statue in Lincoln Park. Make him look real pretty, and bring someone to take video." I have to admit, it's a good dare. The statue is in a very visible location where she could easily be caught, and I can only imagine that there would be consequences to defacing city property.

Christina pouts. "Fine. Time limit?"

"I'm feeling generous," Zeke replies. "I'll give you three days. So I'll need video evidence by lunchtime Friday."

When I walk to Spanish class after lunch with Tris and Uriah, they hold hands the whole way there. Uriah seems friendly, but every time Tris looks at me, I feel like she's sizing me up, trying to figure me out, and it's unnerving.

Most of the seats are filled when we arrive to class. Uriah and Tris take two seats together in the back. "Sorry, man," Uriah says, and he sounds genuine. "We'll have to try and get here earlier next time so you can sit with us."

"No worries, man, it's cool," I say, even though I feel lost choosing between the three empty seats that remain scattered throughout the room. Being the new kid sucks.

The rest of the day goes by uneventfully; girls flirt with me, which is nothing unexpected or unusual. I have Shauna and Zeke in my last two classes of the day, Art and PE; Tris and Al are in our PE class as well. All of them seem to be athletic (Al not as much as the others), and Tris is shockingly fast when we run sprints. Al is like a sledgehammer, all power and no finesse, always looking clumsy and proven to be so when he trips over his own feet and falls during his sprints. Zeke tells me he's a lineman on the football team, but only second string, and it makes sense.

After class, Zeke, Al and I don't bother changing out of our gym clothes; we're going straight to football practice anyway. I quickly learn that Shauna and Tris are on the cheerleading team when they also stay in their tank tops and short yoga shorts to head to their practice.

As the team gathers on the football field my stomach balls up in nervousness; joining the team late in the season, disrupting the pecking order of the team, could cause a lot of problems. It did at my last school and that time I started with everyone else. The guy who was slated to be the starting quarterback and team captain did not take kindly to having his position usurped by a newcomer.

"Don't worry man," Zeke says, clapping me on the shoulder. He must sense my anxiety. "You got this. We got your back."

"Anything to knock Peter down a notch," Uriah grins.

Then the coach blows his whistle to get all our attention. Here we go...


	4. Chapter 4

**_TRIS_**

Cheerleading practice ends half an hour earlier than football practice. I take a quick shower and change back into my jeans, tank top, and pull on a hoodie. I got down here a little later than the rest of the girls; just as we wrapped up practice, I saw Uriah get creamed pretty badly by Peter when blocking the new guy. The attack was aimed at Four, and it was a dirty play, especially for practice. I waited to make sure Uriah was alright before heading to the locker room with the other girls.

The locker room is nearly empty by the time I finish getting dressed; only Christina is left, and she stands at the mirror, still touching up her makeup. She isn't quite done, so I decide I may as well fix mine a little, too. I do the bare minimum, as usual, and am still done before Chris, even though she's been at it for ten minutes.

"You about done, Barbie?" I tease her.

She rolls her eyes and snaps the cap back on her lipstick. "I'm headed home," she says. "See ya tomorrow, babe." Chris has been jokingly calling me 'babe' ever since I kissed her for Al's lame dare.

We grab our bags. Christina splits off from me to go to the parking lot, and I head out to the bleachers to I wait for Uriah. He stayed over after we finished the prank last night, and I rode with him to school today. There was no way I was taking my truck; we haven't cleaned the bed yet after hauling all those animals. Zeke and Uriah promised to clean it after practice.

I see Lauren sitting on the bleachers and Marlene a few rows up and at the other end of the bench. Good. I can't stand Lauren and I don't want to be anywhere near her.

Marlene smiles at me as I sit down. "Hey!" I say. "What are you doing here so late?"

"Al is giving me a ride home," she says. There's no excitement in her voice; she's only riding with Al because he lives a few blocks away from her. The two hardly seem to have two words to say to one another, so I'm sure it's awkward when Marlene rides with Al.

I glance at Lauren, and Marlene follows my gaze. "I wonder who she's after this time," I say.

Marlene snorts. "Could be anyone. But, probably the new guy. I can't deny that he's hot."

She's right, but I won't be admitting it out loud. Those eyes... "Whatever," I say. "So long as she isn't going after Uriah again, I don't really care." Marlene keeps her eyes on the field and chuckles.

Coach Amar blows his whistle and calls the team in. Uriah and Zeke are together, Four sticking close by them, and Al is nearby. As Coach talks to the players, I can't hear what he's saying, but I see Four grin and Zeke clap him on the shoulder. Everyone gets up when they're dismissed and Four tags along with Uriah and Zeke as they make their way to the bleachers. When I glance at Marlene, she's watching the three boys intently, following their every move. Al follows a few steps behind.

"Hey, baby," Uriah calls as they near us. He tries to pull me to him when they reach Marlene and me but I put both hands on his chest and push him away.

"Eww!" I whine. "You're all gross and sweaty. Go shower first!" He plants a quick kiss on my lips anyway.

"Fine," Uriah laughs. "I'll be back in ten." He turns and jogs toward the locker rooms.

"You hurry up, too, Al," Marlene says. "I've got so much homework today! I'd like to get home soon. If you don't mind, I mean."

Al nods. "Okay. See ya, Tris." He jogs off in the same direction Uriah did.

"Did you hear what Coach said?" Zeke asks us grinning from ear to ear. I shake my head. "Four knocked Peter down to second string."

I smile at Four. "Good," I say firmly. I can't stand Peter. If there's anyone in this school I truly hate, it's him.

Four shrugs. "He's pretty pissed, I think."

"Even better," Marlene laughs. "You were really good out there, by the way."

"Thanks," Four says softly with a shy smile. Either he doesn't know how to take a compliment, or Marlene makes him nervous. He's good looking and talented, surely he was popular at his last school, so it's probably the latter. "Well, um… I'd better go get a shower and head home. I've got a lot to catch up on in my classes."

Zeke and Four tell us goodbye and head off to the locker room, and Marlene and I settle back in to wait for Uriah and Al.

* * *

I watch Zeke and Uriah washing my truck while I stir the soup I'm heating up for dinner. I can see the driveway through the kitchen window; I feel the need to supervise, even if from afar. My truck is my baby― a '61 Ford F-150 pickup, not yet fully restored, but I love the thing. The dents have been pounded out of its body and I just got it a new paint job this summer― aqua blue. It will need a new clutch soon, and the sound of the engine reminds me of an old motorboat, so I still have some work to do under the hood. Mom grew up poor and she was always having to fix things on her old Rambler; Caleb had no interest in learning the skill, but I was always into it. It's something Mom and I used to do together.

Luckily I haven't needed to make any major repairs in the last year since she died and have been able to focus only on cosmetics. I'm not confident enough to do it myself, not without Mom here to show me what to do.

I turn down the heat on the soup to keep it warm until the boys are done. When I look out the window again, Uriah tries to stretch his arm to shoot hose water at Zeke, and I see him clearly wince at the action. That tackle at football practice this afternoon replays in my mind, the way Peter drove his arm hard into Uriah's rib cage when he blocked Four. I thought he was okay, but Uriah looks awfully sore now.

I am pulled away from my thoughts when I hear the front door slam. I move toward the sound as footsteps shuffle toward me and at the door to the small kitchen am met with Caleb. He's carrying an overflowing laundry basket with both hands and sets it on the floor against the wall.

"Hey, Beatrice," he says with a boyish grin. I roll my eyes; I left behind my given name in favor of the nickname 'Tris' when I started the sixth grade, but five years later, neither Caleb nor my father have adjusted to that change. Caleb pulls me into a hug, and just like I do with Uriah, I feel dwarfed by his height. I'll never understand how he got all the good genes when it comes to height, while I was left to be one of the shortest in my class. "Mmm, that smells good. What are you making?"

"Chicken tortilla soup," I answer my brother. "Want to stay for dinner? There's plenty." He doesn't come by often, and though we often annoy each other just like any siblings, I miss him.

"That would be great, thanks," he says. "Let me start my laundry. I'll be right back." Caleb disappears into the laundry room that connects the kitchen to the garage.

I open the fridge to pull out lettuce and other vegetables to make a salad― enough of us are eating tonight to be worth the effort― and my eyes fall on the markings on the pantry door frame, where Mom kept record of Caleb's and my growth over the years, from the time we moved into this house when I was eight. Our house isn't very big, and is located in a decidedly middle class neighborhood, despite my father's large salary. Four years ago, when he was promoted to the position of CFO within the pharmaceutical company he works for, Dad wanted to move to a big expensive house in a wealthier neighborhood, but Mom refused. She didn't want to leave behind the memories we had made here, and this house had everything we needed, so we stayed put.

It's a little ironic that her insistence upon staying where our memories were made is the same reason I lost my dad at the same time I lost my mother. After she died a year ago, I think he just could not stand to be here where everything reminded him of the woman he loved― the love he had lost. So he asked to be transferred to New York. I had just turned sixteen and gotten my driver's license, so he decided I was old enough to take care of myself with his financial support and left me here to finish out high school with the friends I have relied on since elementary school. I'm glad I didn't have to leave my friends, but I do get lonely for my family.

Caleb appears beside me and washes his hands as I stack a cucumber, tomatoes and a head of lettuce and set them next to the sink. We don't need to speak and discuss anything, we just work together seamlessly, washing and cutting the vegetables and arranging them in the bowl, slicing the remainder of the loaf of french bread I bought the other day. Just like we always have. Mom expected us to do our part and not to argue about it, so we did. My mom was the sort of person that you wanted to please― not out of fear, but out of deep respect.

Zeke and Uriah tromp in through the side door just as Caleb begins pulling out dishes to set the table. He scowls; I completely ignore the disapproving look and just cheerfully say, "Set the table for four, Caleb. They were invited to stay for dinner before you were, you know."

Caleb sighs and pulls out four plates and four bowls. He's never liked the Pedrad brothers much; Caleb is just a bit too stiff for their brand of crazy. I roll my eyes and mentally prepare myself for dinner with my brother and the Pedrad boys.


	5. Chapter 5

_**TRIS**_

* * *

"Hey, Caleb," Zeke and Uriah say cheerfully in synchronisation. It's creepy when they do that. "Your truck's all squeaky clean," Zeke adds, looking at me.

"Thank you," I say. I look at them. They're both soaking wet and dripping all over the floor. Good thing Uriah already has half a dozen changes of clothes here; once he had to borrow some of Caleb's clothes and he looked ridiculous. The clothes were way too preppy and Uri was practically busting out of them. Caleb may be tall, but he's skinny as a rail.

"I don't know why you hang out with those hellions." He got that word from Dad. "They're going to get you into trouble someday." I just roll my eyes.

"Those _hellions_ are always there for me, Caleb," I retort. My brother hasn't been there for me, and he knows it. As happy as I always am to see him, he really only comes round to do his laundry every two or three weeks. Otherwise I never hear from him. And he never tells me when he's coming, so sometimes I miss him when he does come by. It's certainly more than I see Dad, but Caleb is only a half hour away.

"Why do they have clothes here?" He loves to play the protector when he comes around, pretend to be the world's best big brother. The image of him trying to beat up either of the Pedrads, who each must outweigh him by at least thirty pounds of muscle, is amusing.

He won't like the real answer, so I lie. "They had already agreed to wash my truck, so they brought a change of clothes. They put it in my room when they got here." They did know they'd have to wash the truck, but the clothes were already there. Uriah and I sleep over at each other's houses often enough that we each have a drawer in the other's dresser. But Caleb definitely doesn't need to know that.

"-thought you'd choose Four," Uriah is saying as he and Zeke walk in.

Zeke replies, "I was going to, but Tris gave me one of her death glares." He shudders. "Your girlfriend is scary, Uri." Oh, they're talking about the dare game earlier today, at lunch. "Hey, Caleb," he adds, like an afterthought.

Being chosen for a dare is like being initiated into the group, and I'm not that sure about Four yet. So I simply say, "Four isn't one of us yet. It's too soon." Uriah rolls his eyes.

"Who is Four?" Caleb asks. His face is puckered like he just sucked on a lemon.

"New kid," Uriah answers. He wraps an arm around my waist and kisses my temple. Caleb gives me that look of disapproval that I memorized long ago. "Just started at Dauntless today. He's the new quarterback on the football team."

Caleb shakes his head. "Who the heck names their child Four?"

Zeke sits down at the table, and Uriah begins helping me carry the food over. "It's a nickname," Zeke shrugs. "His jersey number." I got the feeling that was only a convenient coincidence and there is a lot more to that nickname, but I keep that thought to myself.

The rest of us sit down and start eating. Caleb talks about some horticulture course he is taking at the university and goes on for at least ten minutes about aquaponics, which he finds absolutely fascinating and the rest of us couldn't care less about. Zeke, Uriah and I make faces at each other when Caleb isn't looking.

Then he turns the academics discussion to me.

"So, Beatrice, how is school going?" Zeke quietly snickers at my brother using my full name.

Uriah shoots me a pointed look. "Yeah, _Beatrice._ How _is_ school going?" I glare at him.

"It's fine." It would be a lie, I suppose, from Caleb's perspective. But not from mine because as far as I am concerned it _is_ fine. I couldn't care less that I have C's in half my classes. I have better things to do than study.

"I'm sure you totally aced that English test on _The Crucible,_ with how much I know you studied for it," Uriah says. I kick him under the table and glare. He knows I barely got a C. I didn't bother to read the book.

"I did fine," I say through gritted teeth.

Caleb looks at me critically. "Well I hope so," he says, "because you're so bright, Beatrice. Dad will be upset if your grades don't reflect your potential."

I roll my eyes. "I know that, Caleb. Don't worry about it, I'm fine." He presses his lips together in a straight line, but doesn't press further.

"Speaking of Dad," Caleb says, "he called me the other day; did he call you?" I shake my head no. Dad calls Caleb a lot more often than he does me, and I know this, but it never helps to be reminded of the fact. "Well, he was letting me know that he isn't coming home for Thanksgiving this year. He'll buy us each plane tickets out to New York if we want to go." I wonder if Dad really wants us there, or he just feels like this is what he's supposed to do.

"Are you going?" I ask.

Caleb shrugs. "Not sure yet. There's um…" he blushes "someone I might want to spend the holiday with. Her family lives in Springfield."

"Oooh," Zeke teases, rubbing his hands together, "who is this mystery girl?" Uriah laughs, then winces. I definitely need to take a look at his ribs.

"Yeah, Caleb, tell me about your _girlfriend,_ " I say, grinning. I'm glad the attention is off me, and it's fun seeing my brother turn as red as a tomato.

"Her name is Susan," he says. "She's studying for a career in social work."

"Hmm, well, I'll have to meet this Susan soon, then," I laugh. Bring her with you next time."

"Only if these two clowns won't be here," Caleb scoffs.

Uriah dramatically clutches his chest. "You're breaking my heart, Cal. Truly." Then he and Zeke laugh together.

"Well, what about you two?" I ask. "Will Hana be home for Thanksgiving?"

Zeke shrugs. "Too soon to tell. We haven't talked about it yet. But she might want to spend it with the boyfriend and his family. She would probably fly us out."

Zeke and Uriah's dad died when we were in fifth grade, and their mother, Hana, was left with the payout on a very generous life insurance policy. A couple of years ago, she met some guy named Harrison while traveling and they began to see one another long-distance. After a while, she started spending most of her time with Harrison in Miami, where he lives and works. She's usually home for a week or two of each month. Like my dad, she didn't want to uproot her boys.

"Well, I don't want to go to New York if Caleb doesn't," I say. Caleb looks conflicted. "Don't worry, Cal, I'm sure I'll find someone to spend the holiday with." The relief on his face, that I won't make him feel obligated to miss Thanksgiving dinner with his new girlfriend, is unmistakable.

"You're welcome to spend it with us, Trissy," Zeke says. "Even if we go down to Florida, you could come, you know. Mom already considers you to be the daughter she never had."

I smile and shrug. "We'll see."

* * *

After the dinner dishes are done, I play cards with Zeke and Uriah for a few hours while Caleb studies for a test about that aquaponics crap he was going on about earlier. When his laundry is dry he promptly leaves, and Zeke follows about a half hour later.

Uriah yawns and stretches his arms up, his hands balled in fists, and again I see him wince. I walk toward him and lift the hem of his shirt. Uriah tries to pull me in for a kiss and pouts when I brush him off. I raise his shirt up almost to his armpits and he helps me by pulling it off, but I can tell it hurts him to do even that.

Once his shirt is off I have a full view of his chest, and I grimace when I see the bruise on the right side of his ribcage. It's already black and purple, and quite large. I brush my fingers over the discolored skin, leaving my hand there pressed gently against his ribs, and shake my head. "How did Coach Amar not see that play?!" I complain. "Peter should be suspended from the next game for that. It was dirty, especially for practice when it doesn't count."

Uriah sighs. "I know. Coach must have been distracted or something. Zeke tried to tell him but Peter denied it. And of course the bruise hadn't shown up yet."

I drop my hand and sigh. "Let's get some ice on it. You should have been icing it all afternoon, Uri."

Uriah rolls his eyes but doesn't argue. He follows me to the kitchen and I pull out an ice pack; these get a lot more use now that Uriah spends so much time here, though I do use them occasionally if I land wrong or strain a muscle in cheerleading practice.

When we head upstairs I change into a pair of short pajama shorts and a camisole. We brush our teeth, then Uriah climbs into my bed in just his boxers, and I climb in after him.

He pulls me against his side and leans in. We kiss, tenderly at first, but it soon deepens and his hand glides under my cami and I pull him closer and drag my hand up his back. But when I splay my hands over his ribs I don't miss the way he flinches and I remember again the bruise on his side. I pull away from him and scoot back to put a little room between us.

"Tris," he pleads.

"No," I say, "you're hurt. Where did that ice pack go?"

"I'm fine," he huffs.

"You're in pain," I counter. "You need to rest." He groans in frustration but doesn't argue again. Speaking of arguments… "Hey, what was that earlier?" I ask. "At dinner with Caleb. Why would you say that to him, about my English test?!"

"Because, Tris. I don't get what's up with you. You used to always be so good at school and now it's like you just don't care at all. I don't get it."

"You're right. I _don't_ care," I snap. "And I don't think it's any of your business."

"Not my business? I care about you, but you don't seem to care about yourself."

"What does my homework have to do with caring about myself? It's not like I cut or starve myself, Uriah. I take care of myself just fine."

"I just think you're going to regret it later, Beatrice."

"Don't call me Beatrice!" I scoot a couple inches more away from him and cross my arms over my chest.

"Tris," he groans. "I'm just looking out for you. You're smart, you could do anything you wanted. And what if your dad finds out and gets mad?"

"Then that's _his_ problem. I can take care of myself, Uriah, I don't need you or your concern."

"Fine!" Uriah growls. I'm hit with a blast of cold air as he throws off the covers. I hear him hiss from the pain in his ribs as he sits up abruptly, but he keeps going and stomps away from the bed leaving the blankets pulled down. I sit up and turn on the lamp. He's rummaging through my laundry basket then pulls some things out and starts putting them on, the clothes he was wearing earlier tonight.

"What are you doing?" I ask even though I know exactly what he's doing. He always runs off when we argue.

Uriah barely glances up from tying his shoes. "Hey, _you don't need me_ , right?"

"Uriah," I groan. "Come on, that's not what I―"

"I don't want to hear it. I'll see you at school, Tris." I watch him storm out of my room. I hear the front door slam and flop back against my pillows with a frustrated growl, alone in the house once again.


	6. Chapter 6

_**FOUR**_

* * *

I wake to the faint smell of coffee and, after a quick stop at the bathroom, head straight to the kitchen. My mom is sitting at our table near the kitchen with both hands wrapped around her coffee mug. "Morning," I mumble as I pass.

"Good morning, dear," she responds, glancing up from the newspaper for just a moment. It's 6:30, I have an hour before I need to leave for school. I pour myself a cup of coffee and sit across from her. The table is very small, just big enough for the two of us, but the apartment is small as well so it fits better that way.

"What are you doing up?" I ask her. She works nights as a pharmacy tech at the hospital. She had already left for work when I got home from practice last night, and she is usually asleep when I get up in the morning.

"I wanted to hear about your first day at the new school," Mom replies.

I shrug. "It was alright. Practice was good." I decide not to tell her about Zeke's prank.

"Make any friends?"

"Uh, yeah, actually. A few." She nods. I look at her expectantly. She usually doesn't engage in so much small talk. But she's trying… trying to make up for her mistakes. It's something, at least.

Mom clears her throat. "I have some news," she says carefully. She doesn't make eye contact. I raise my hand with my palm up, gesturing to her to go on and spit it out already. "Your father and I came to an agreement on visitation."

I tense, and already I can feel the panic bubbling through me. "Is this how you got him to sign for the school registration?" I ask in a low voice.

She nods. "I did everything I could, Tobias."

"What did you agree to?" My voice is shaking, breathless.

She sighs. "One weekend a month. And dinner every Wednesday."

I focus on breathing. _In, out. In, out._ This isn't that bad, I tell myself. One dinner a week, and twelve weekends a year. That's it. That's all I have to see that bastard.

Twelve weekends each year still feels insurmountable, when I was hoping never to lay eyes on the sadistic asshole again.

And those weekly dinners… will we meet at a restaurant, or do I have to go to his house? Does it even matter? He will still find some way to get me alone. I'll never escape him.

"Fine," I spit. I feel like screaming, but I suppress it. Without looking at my mother again, I leave my half-empty cup of coffee on the table and stalk off to the bathroom to clear my head with a cold shower.

* * *

I park next to an old vintage Ford pick-up. The exterior is near perfect, someone has put a lot of care into this truck. I wonder if they've put as much work in under the hood. I like working on old cars, like this pick-up or my car, a 1967 Mustang. Newer cars, not as much.

I bought my Mustang with money I saved working odd jobs around the neighborhood, and I fixed it up myself. When I first brought the car home, it sputtered and frequently backfired, but now it purrs like a kitten. Teaching me how to fix just about anything under the hood of a car is the one thing I can genuinely thank my father for. But it doesn't make up for everything else.

I somehow make it to my first class without getting too lost. First period was already over when Ms. Reyes finished processing my registration paperwork yesterday, so this is my first day in Chemistry class. I am relieved to see a girl I recognize as one of Zeke's friends― I think her name was Marlene― sitting at a desk in the back row, near the window, but there's a backpack already in the otherwise empty seat next to her. The seat in front of her, thankfully, is empty.

"Hi," I say as I take the seat in front of Marlene.

"Hi, Four!" Marlene says, way too cheerily for this hour of the morning. "You can make Zeke move over one if you want, you know." She points at the backpack occupying the seat to her right. I shrug and do as she suggested.

"Why is Zeke's bag here if he isn't?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes. "He's flirting with some girl." She points to the other side of the classroom, where I hadn't noticed Zeke leaning against a desk. He is facing away from me, but the girl he's talking to wears a flirtatious smile and looks up at him through her eyelashes. She's pretty, with shiny dark brown hair that falls in soft waves and her skin is a warm, tan color.

I turn back to Marlene. "So…" I have no idea what to say to this girl. I don't know much about her… only that she left with Al yesterday after practice. I guess that topic is as good as any. "Al, huh?"

Marlene looks startled. "What? N-no― _no,_ " she sputters. She shakes her head fast and wrinkles her nose. "No, he just lives near me and I don't have a car. Al and I are not― no."

I can't help laughing at her reaction. "Sorry," I chuckle. "I didn't mean to offend you." Her cheeks turn red and she at least looks a little sorry, I feel badly for Al.

"It's okay… Al's a nice guy and all…" She sighs. "But we have nothing in common and he's just… I don't know. Not my type, I guess." I nod. "Anyway, do you―"

"Four, how's it going, bro?" Zeke interrupts as he moves his bag and drops unceremoniously into his chair. I glance at the clock; two minutes until class starts. "I hope you don't have plans for Saturday night, and if you do… well, then cancel them. I got us a date."

Oh no, no blind dates. "Sorry, Zeke," I respond, "but you're not really my type."

"Ha, ha. Real funny, asshole." Zeke rolls his eyes. "No, you see that girl over there?" He points in the direction of the girl he was talking to earlier, which isn't very specific, but I know she's the one he's referring to and I nod. "Well, her name's Maria. She'll only go out with me if I can find a date for her friend, too. Nicole― she's a redhead? I guess she met you in English class yesterday." I think hard, and I think I know who he's talking about. She was the one who kept trying to talk to me when all I wanted to do was stare at Tris.

But Tris already has a boyfriend― Zeke's brother, no less― and she could have any guy she wanted, anyway. Someone with money, and without all the emotional baggage I carry. She's out of my league.

But I still don't really want to go on this date. Being set up is awkward enough. Adding the whole double-date aspect is even worse.

"I thought you were seeing Madison," Marlene interjects.

Zeke rolls his eyes. "Nah, that's over. So… Saturday night, Four?"

"I don't think so Zeke."

"Come on, man! Who else am I gonna take? Al? I doubt she'll agree to that when I promised a date with the mysterious new quarterback."

"You said I'd go before you even asked me?!"

Zeke opens his mouth to answer but at that moment, the teacher stands at the front of the room and clears his throat to call the class's attention. I glare at Zeke and pull out my notebook and a pen. I'll get out of this stupid date later.

* * *

After class, Zeke rushes off before I can talk to him. I have a feeling that was intentional on his part. I feel like I am sleeping with my eyes open in my second class, though at least this time I sit with Will, Shauna and Lynn rather than by myself. At trig, I'm alone at a table with Tris again. She is friendlier than she was yesterday, but only slightly. During class, she checks her phone about twenty times but never sends a text.

It's a good thing Zeke is in my econ class, because fifth period I know I have class with that girl Nicole, and I need to straighten this out before I see her. Zeke and Shauna are already there when I walk into the classroom; I instantly start toward them but I have to walk by Lauren to get there. "Hey, Four," she says in a flirty voice. "You played _so awesome_ in practice yesterday. You looked really… really good out there."

"Uh, thanks," I say. I just want to go straighten this out with Zeke. She opens her mouth to speak again but I cut her off. "See you." I continue toward Zeke without sparing her another glance.

I sit down and don't even say hello before I start in. Class will start soon and my time is limited. "Zeke, I don't want to go on a blind double date―"

"Well, you already know Nicole and I already know Maria, so that's not a problem."

"It will be awkward!" I protest.

"Come on, man! This girl is really hot, this is what friends do for each other," Zeke whines. Shauna huffs and looks out the window with her arms crossed over her chest. "I'll be your best friend," he grins.

I roll my eyes, he sounds like a first grader. Still, I find myself conceding. "Fine," I groan, "I'll go. But this is a one time deal. No more dragging me on your dates." I give him my best glare.

"Woah… okay, you can stop murdering me with your eyes now. I got it, I got it." I nod, satisfied that he got the message. "Damn," he mutters, "and I thought Uriah was cranky."

* * *

Zeke invites me over after practice, and I follow him and Uriah to their house. Uriah made a point of ignoring Tris during lunch, and sat apart from her at Spanish class. That meant I got to sit by her. We did a worksheet together, but she seemed really distracted. When we go into their house, he disappears somewhere as soon as we walk in the door. I raise an eyebrow at Zeke.

Zeke rolls his eyes. "He hasn't said anything about it, but I'm pretty sure he and Tris had a fight. It'll blow over in a couple days and everything will go back to normal. Till the next time they piss each other off."

"So this happens a lot?"

"Lately, yeah," Zeke says.

"Why do they stay together if they're always fighting?" I ask. I just can't seem to stop myself.

Zeke shrugs. "They've been together for a year and a half and friends since third grade. Habit, maybe. Hell if I know." He pulls a bag of chips out of a cupboard and opens the fridge. "Beer or soda?"

I roll my eyes. "Coke." I don't need a hangover on a school night, I'm already scrambling to catch up after transferring schools in the middle of the semester. Zeke hands me the chips and grabs the whole box of coke― probably trying to save himself a trip back to the fridge later.

"Wanna order a pizza?" he asks as I follow him across the entryway and down a flight of stairs. "I'm hungry and trust me, you don't want me to try and cook."

I laugh. "Sure. Whatever kind you guys like; I'm not picky."

The stairs lead to a daylight basement. We pass a few open doors― a bedroom and a bathroom on one side, and an unfinished looking room housing a water heater and laundry appliances on the other― before coming into a large room with a bar, pool table, and a large flat screen TV on the wall. There are a couple of couches angled to face the TV, one of those big round chairs that looks like a saucer, and I spot a couple of bean bag chairs thrown in a corner.

Uriah sits in the middle of the couch playing Call of Duty; I recognize it from playing it a few times at friends' houses, but Marcus never allowed me to have any sort of video games, so I suck at it. There's a bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass half full of the amber liquid on the coffee table in front of him, and Zeke sets the box of soda next to it and pulls out his phone to order the pizza.

Uriah pauses his game and sets down the controller. "Sweet, thanks bro," he says. He grabs a can, opens it, and pours it into his glass almost to the top, mixing it with the whiskey. Zeke nods at him as he places his order over the phone.

"Your parents don't mind you guys drinking?" I ask after Zeke hangs up. Even though they don't seem to be home yet, it's a school night so I can't imagine it would be too much longer before someone shows up.

"Oh, Mom _minds,_ " Zeke says. "But she's in Miami. Won't be home till next week."

"She stays down there with her boyfriend most of the time," Uriah adds. "And Dad died years ago." His phone vibrates on the glass coffee table and lights up with Tris's name and a photo of her with snow in her hair, laughing. Uriah huffs and silences it before turning it over so the screen faces down.

 _If she was mine,_ I think, _I wouldn't ignore her like that._ Then again, what the hell do I know? I've never had a real relationship― not one that lasted more than a month or two, anyway.

Zeke and I head to the pool table and play a game of 8 ball while Uriah goes back to his game. "No point in trying to get him to hang out right now," Zeke says rolling his eyes. "He'll pout about Tris until he's had enough alcohol to either go from mad to sad and call her back, or to forget about it and want to go do something fun."

An hour later, I've won two games and Zeke has beat me once. Uriah drinks steadily the whole time and eventually disappears upstairs without saying a word to either of us. "So, this date Saturday," Zeke says. I groan and Zeke just laughs at me.

"What about it?" I say, not bothering to hide my irritation.

"I was thinking dinner and a movie."

"Cliche."

Zeke shrugs. "Back of a nice, dark movie theater is _always_ a good place to take a date." I roll my eyes and he grins. "Loosen up, Four. You're the mysterious new quarterback all the girls are swooning over. You can get all the girls you want right now, take advantage of it."

 _Yeah. Any girl… except for the one I want._


	7. Chapter 7

_**TRIS**_

* * *

I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling. A pile of unfinished homework waits on my desk. I made a half-assed attempt earlier, but I gave up. I probably won't try again. Whenever I try to focus on my schoolwork, I just can't, so I don't bother much any more. I'm smart enough to pass the tests, often with high scores, but not much of my work makes it to the teachers' inboxes.

Today has sucked. After my unfortunate choice of words last night, Uriah stormed out, and he hasn't spoken to me since. He made a point to ignore me all day at school, hasn't answered any of my texts or calls, and when I tried to wait for him after practice, he went straight to the locker room without even glancing my way.

Things have been a little rough with Uriah and me for a while now. I don't know what it is… if I did, maybe I would know how to fix it. Sometimes I'm not completely sure I even want to… but the thought of losing him scares me. I don't have many constants in my life, and Uriah is one of the few. Zeke, too, and I suppose the girls, but I am not as close to any of them as I always have been with the Pedrad boys.

Maybe if I had known that I would lose my mother (and, really, my entire family in the process) I would not have risked my friendship with Uriah by becoming more than friends. But it's too late now. If Uriah and I fall apart, I don't think it will ever be the same between us.

My phone vibrates, making a loud buzzing sound on the table by my bed. I pick it up and see a text from Christina, and I sigh. I don't want the text to be from Chris, I want it to be from Uriah. I unlock the screen and look at it anyway.

 _Christina: Marlene and I are going down to lincoln park to give benji a makeover at 12. Wanna come?_

Right, Christina's dare. The Benjamin Franklin statue. I sigh and glance at the time. It's 8:14. As much as all I _want_ to do is sleep, and block out this entire day, I'm not tired. I really don't feel like doing pranks tonight, but what else am I gonna do?

 _Tris: Yeah, sure. Where and when should I meet you?  
Christina: 11:45 in the museum parking lot.  
Tris: Kk. cu then._

With a deep sigh I get up and put my school things back into my backpack, knowing I won't bother with them again tonight. I didn't finish the dishes after dinner, so I deal with those next. There aren't many; since I was eating alone tonight, I just had a turkey sandwich and some leftover soup. I'm drying the cutting board I used to make my sandwich when I hear three knocks, loud but slow, on the side door. My stomach flips. I'm pretty sure I know who it is… and what state he is in… and my blood pressure is already rising at the thought.

I unlock the deadbolt and fling open the door. Uriah tumbles in― he was stupidly leaning against the door. His eyes are red and he looks overall disheveled. He pulls me into his arms, but I feel more like I am holding him up, too much of his weight is leaning on me and he sways as he stands. "Trissss," he slurs. "Baby, I miss you." His breath is sharp with whiskey.

Anger surges through me and my heart pounds in my ears. I push him off me and he stumbles back, barely catching himself on the kitchen table. "Ow," he mumbles. "The hell? What was that for?"

I huff out a breath and pull out the chair closest to him, then push him into it. "Are you shitting me right now?" I hiss. I stomp to the front window as I continue. "Tell me, Uriah, how did you get here? Let me guess―you drove yourself, drunk off your fucking ass!" I look out the window. Sure enough, there's his jeep, parked at a careless angle with the front driver's side wheel in the flower bed instead of on the driveway.

"You're so uptight," he mumbles.

"Uptight?!" I screech. "Uriah, you could have killed yourself, or someone else! How many times do we have to have this conversation, you asshole?!"

"Oh yeah… I forgot."

"You _forgot_?" I pace the kitchen with my fists clenched at my sides. How the hell does he forget something like this? How does he not understand the way this affects me? "Did you _forget_ that some asshole _just like you_ is the reason my mother is dead? The reason I don't have a family any more?! Fuck you, Uri!"

His face falls. But I don't feel bad for yelling at him. No matter how mad he is at me or how much he's had to drink, I don't know how he can possibly forget the most basic details of the tragedy, only a year ago, that has turned my entire world upside down.

"Trisss, just… slow down… I…" He starts to get up and I push him back into the chair. Tears leave hot, sticky trails down my cheeks and I don't know if it's anger, or grief, or frustration… or maybe it's a combination of all three.

I hold my hand out to him. "Give me your keys. _Now._ " He stares at me blankly. "Give them to me!" I scream. And finally he fishes them out of his pocket and drops them in my outstretched hand, his movements sluggish and sloppy. "Don't move," I order, shaking my finger at him. He nods dumbly.

I put his keys in a drawer in the living room to make sure he won't find them sitting somewhere and take off again, though he looks too bewildered by my reaction―even though this is certainly not the first time we've been through this―to do anything but stare at me, anyway. Then I pull out my phone and call Zeke.

* * *

I took Uriah home in his Jeep and made Zeke promise to keep the keys away from him. We didn't talk anything out, I was too angry with him for driving drunk―still am. It's always complicated when I have to do this… either Zeke has to drive me home, or if he's been drinking, too, I just drive the Jeep back to my house and am stuck getting it back to Uriah the next day. That's not normally a problem… but when we aren't even really on speaking terms, it's a little awkward.

Tonight, though, Four was there, and he offered me a ride home. He said he had to get back to his homework, anyway.

"This car is amazing," I gush as I hop into his black vintage Mustang.

"Thanks," he smiles as we both buckle the lap belts. He pats the dash. "This car is my baby. I've put a lot of work into her."

"You fixed it up yourself?" He nods. I bite my lip. "My mom and I used to work on my truck together," I admit. "But I don't know enough to do it by myself. Do you―could you―" I stutter.

"Tris," he interrupts. "If you want me to help you fix your truck, I will."

I smile. "That would be great. Thank you, Four."

"You're welcome. What kind of truck is it?"

"Uh, it's a 1961 Ford F-150. Mom got it for me when I turned fifteen, and we spent a few months working on it. But since―I―" I stammer. It's still so hard to find the words when something about Mom comes up… when I have to think of how I lost her. "Well, without Mom, I've only done cosmetic work. At least it looked good by the time I turned sixteen and could drive it around on my own, right?"

"That's yours?! It's awesome. I saw it in the lot at school this morning," Four says. Four glances at me looking conflicted. I'm not surprised when he asks, "Does she not work on it with you any more?" I shake my head. "Why not?"

"She died," I whisper. I hate this part, the thing I know is coming. The part where the person looks at me with pity and tells me how sorry they are, and then it's all awkward while they try to figure out what to say to make it better. Nothing will ever make it better.

"Well, we should finish it, then," he says after a short pause. "I bet you know more about fixing a car than you think. I think she'd want you to finish it yourself, don't you? With an assistant to help, I mean."

He's looking at me the same way he did before. He doesn't pity me. And it's not awkward. He even made me feel like it's okay to talk about her, and he won't get weird and uncomfortable. I'm not sure if I am ready to do that, but it's nice to feel as though I could. Maybe I could be okay with Four joining our group, after all.

"I think she would," I agree and I smile at him. I glance at the clock and am startled when I realize it is 11:25. I smirk. "So, Four… would you like to help with a dare?"


	8. Chapter 8

_**FOUR**_

* * *

"Park over there, up front near the building," Tris directs me. I frown, but obey. It seems like we should be parking somewhere more hidden. But Tris seems to anticipate my concern. "If you park like you're trying to hide, it'll give security a reason to believe something shady's going on. Right out in the open, as if you are an employee working late, they won't think twice. You gotta act like you belong." That actually makes a lot of sense, and Tris probably has plenty of experience pulling off stunts like this.

I turn off the engine, but leave the radio on and lean back in my seat. Tris lounges back, too, crossing her legs at the ankle. "Christina's late," Tris scoffs. "She always gives me so much shit if I show up a few minutes late."

I smile. "I take it you're not letting this go, then?"

"Not a chance," she grins.

While we quietly wait for Christina, I internally cringe remembering the homework I need to catch up on. I really should have gone home and gotten straight to work on it after practice, but instead I hung out with Zeke, then came out to help with this dare in the middle of the night. I should have at least turned down Tris's invitation to come out here and gotten a good night's sleep, but I couldn't resist the opportunity to spend more time with her.

Christina finally arrives at 11:55. She pulls up in a shiny, white, late-model Mercedes sedan with Marlene in the passenger seat. We all hop out of the car; I shove my hands into the pockets of my hoodie to keep them warm, and Tris rubs hers together. It's cold enough that I see a white puff of fog in front of me with each breath.

"You're late," Tris scolds. "Any longer and we would have bailed." I know Tris is just giving her a hard time; we hadn't talked about leaving yet.

"Sorry, sorry," Christina pleads. "My mom took _forever_ to go to bed tonight! Okay, I've got the stuff I need. Since you're here, Four, you can video and Tris and Marlene can help me give Ole Ben his makeover." I acknowledge her instructions with a nod.

"No," Tris argues, "you and Mar can handle dressing up the statue. I'll be your lookout."

Christina rolls her eyes. "Fine."

"Everyone lock your wallets and purses up in the cars," Tris instructs. "We don't need to chance dropping anything that could identify us. Once we're there, work fast and get out. And if security comes, I'll whistle. _Do not_ run toward this parking lot. Go the other way and circle back around. Got it?" We all agree and start toward the statue.

* * *

I take video with my phone while Christina and Marlene decorate the statue; Marlene is decorating it with scarves and such while Christina applies face paint of some sort to its face. I have to keep shushing the girls, who talk and giggle while they quickly work; I don't want to miss it if Tris whistles her warning.

I'm finding that Christina is a bit of a perfectionist. I would think this could have been done in three minutes, but it's been seven so far, and the longer we are here, the more likely we will get caught. "Chris!" Mar hisses. "Come on, it's good enough! Let's just go!"

"Almost done, just give me a second," Christina protests.

And that's when a whistle rings out in the cold night air. I stuff my phone in my pocket and run, feet pounding on pavement. "Four!" I hear someone hiss from above me. I skid to a stop and look up; Tris is above me in the tree. "Come on!"

I hate heights. I never do things like climb trees for that reason. But the branches are thick, and I'm hidden right now behind some tall bushes… if I get up there to where Tris is, I will be hidden and safe. So I take a deep breath and climb.

It gets harder the breathe the higher I go, but I don't look down, I keep my eyes on Tris and climb as quickly as I can. Soon I am sitting on a strong branch at the same level as Tris, facing her. She brings a finger to her lips to tell me to be quiet.

I look out at the park around us to see where the guards are and though I spot one running past our tree, clueless to our whereabouts, the height hits me full force and I think I'm going to be sick. I take heaving, raspy breaths and all I can think is that I must be more than thirty feet up, and if I fall from this height, I could die. But somewhere in the back of my mind I'm conscious enough of the situation go feel completely embarrassed that Tris is seeing me like this, too.

"Hey, it's okay," Tris whispers. "You won't fall, I won't let you. Don't look down, just look at me, okay?"

I look into her round, stormy blue eyes and nod. I focus on slowing my breathing: three seconds in, hold it a second, three seconds out. It's hard at first, but focusing only on Tris's eyes, it slowly becomes more natural.

"Sorry about that," I mumble when I am calm enough.

Tris shrugs. "Nothing to be sorry for. Everyone's afraid of something."

I watch her for a moment, her face impassive. But in her eyes, I don't see judgment. "You don't think that makes me a coward? Being afraid of something stupid like heights?" I ask.

Tris rolls her eyes. "You made it up here, even though you were afraid. You acted in spite of your fear, you didn't let it control you. That takes strength and courage, Four."

I smile, but then I frown. I wish I were able to act in the face of all my other fears, too. But I can't, so maybe I _am_ a coward.

Tris scans the park for security guards, watching their movements for a minute. "I think we can climb down now," she whispers.

* * *

Christina and Marlene must have gotten away alright, because Chris's car is gone by the time Tris and I get back to the Mustang. Tris stares out the window and hums along to the radio and taps the beat with two fingers on her knee as I drive. I wonder if she is always this quiet, or if she will become more talkative as we get to know each other better. Though, I'm not the most talkative person either, so at this rate we may never learn much about one another.

"You coming to Zeke and Uriah's party on Friday?" she asks. I nod; Zeke mentioned it earlier.

"Do they really have a party every weekend?" I ask.

"Pretty much," Tris nods. "Unless their mom, Hana, is home. Then they'll usually throw one at my place instead."

"You don't mind that?"

She shrugs. "As long as they are the ones to clean up afterward, I don't care. And my dad is never here. It's just that my house is smaller than theirs, so they rather have it at their place when they can." She points to a house on the right side of the street. "Oh, it's this one here."

I pull into the driveway. It's a two-story house, but small and cozy, with flower beds lining the small yard and a detached one-car garage with a basketball hoop mounted on the front. Perfect for a family. Not like the big house I lived in with Mom and Marcus that felt more like a museum where I wasn't allowed to touch anything, and not like the small, impersonal apartment I live in with Mom.

Tris turns to me. "So what did you think of that dare tonight? Having to hide out from the security guard didn't freak you out too much, did it?"

"Other than the fact that I was stuck thirty feet up in a tree…" Tris snickers. "No, it was fun, actually. Thanks for inviting me along."

"Anytime," Tris smiles. "Actually, it's a good thing you were there. Because if you hadn't come, I would have been running the camera and we wouldn't have had a lookout and then…"

"You'd have been caught," I finish for her. She nods. "Have you ever gotten caught doing a dare?"

"Me, no. Zeke almost ended up in jail once, though."

"What?! Really? What happened?"

Tris laughs. "It was this summer. He had to streak through Navy Pier… in the middle of the afternoon. Too many people, someone caught him. But somehow, he talked his way out of it," she says, shaking her head.

I laugh with her. Somehow I can see Zeke sweet talking his way out of almost anything.

Tris slings her purse over her shoulder and flashes me a smile. "Well, it's late. I should go in. Night, Four. See you in trig."

"Good night, Tris," I say before she shuts the door. I wait in the driveway as she goes around the side of the house. When I see light through a front window, I know she has made it inside safely and I put my car in reverse and back out of the driveway.

I only live about two minutes away from Tris; Mom actually got us an apartment in a decent neighborhood, even if the building itself leaves something to be desired. Wind sneaks its way through the edges of my bedroom window at night, and there are deep rust stains in the bathtub, and none of the neighbors have ever made eye contact with me. But I'd take this run-down, tiny apartment over Marcus's big, cold house any day.

I unlock the door and step into the empty apartment. Mom won't get home from work for another three hours. I turn up the thermostat a few degrees and make sure the dishes are done, and I put away the clean ones from the drying rack. I change into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and climb into bed.

It's 1:30 AM, and I haven't done my homework so I'll be even further behind now, but I can't bring myself to care.

Because I just spent the last two hours with Tris Prior.


	9. Chapter 9

_**TRIS**_

* * *

When I walk into first period U.S. History, Uriah is in his seat with his head buried in his arms on the table in front of him. Satisfaction courses through me at the sight; after the shit he pulled last night, he deserves the hangover he's nursing, and to be stuck in school as he does.

I weave through the rows of two-person tables to my seat next to my boyfriend. I quietly set my backpack on the desk behind me and pull out my heavy, thick history book, binder, and a pen. Then I set the backpack on the floor and holding my binder and pen in my left hand and my book in my right, I hold the book a good yard above the table and drop it. It lands with a very loud thud that makes the few other students in the room jump and look my way, and no doubt reverberates through the desk and right into Uriah's pounding head.

Uriah groans, then lifts his head and glares at me. "I know you're mad, Zeke already repeated everything you said to him last night. But I already feel like shit. You don't have a be a bitch about it."

My jaw drops. "Did you seriously just call me a bitch?!" I hiss.

"Well, you're acting like one," he mumbles, rubbing his temples with his fingers. He looks awful. His hair is a mess, his eyes are red, and his usually warm light brown face looks pale.

"Did you at least take some ibuprofen or something?" I sigh, sliding into my chair.

"No," he groans. "We ran out this weekend, I forgot to buy more when I was at the store the other day."

I roll my eyes and dig through my purse for the small bottle of Advil I keep with me and shake two pills into my hand, then grab my water bottle out of my backpack. By the time I've got both ready, Uri's head is buried in his arms again. I nudge him with my elbow, not bothering to be gentle and he groans again. "Stop it, Tris," he mumbles.

"Fine, I'll just put this Advil away, then," I snap as I grab for my purse. "Not like you deserve it."

"Wait! No, I'll take it!" he hurries. I give it to him and after he has taken the pills and finished half my bottle of water he just looks at me for a second. The classroom is nearly full now and the teacher is shuffling through papers at the front of the room. "Look, I'm really sorry, Tris," Uriah says, his eyes lowered with shame. "I made some really bad decisions last night, and I shouldn't have talked to you the way I did a minute ago, either. Can you forgive me?"

I stare at him for a moment. Because the thing is, it isn't that simple. This isn't a one time thing, where he made a mistake and won't do it again. He's risking lives, and it's becoming a pattern, a habit. Anger burns through my veins every day for the man who killed my mother with his own reckless decision; every time Uriah gets behind the wheel drunk, I feel that same anger building toward him. How can I respect someone who chooses to take that risk after seeing the consequences for himself?

Before I can come up with an answer, the bell rings and Ms. Keene starts class. I open my notebook to take notes, suddenly much more interested in the Civil War than I usually would be. Throughout class, though, I feel Uriah's eyes boring into me and I can't keep his question out of my mind.

Eight minutes till the end of class. I close my notebook and slowly and quietly begin to pack up my bag. I want to get out of here as soon as we're dismissed. I know Uriah won't let this go until I give him an answer, and I don't have one ready for him yet.

Unfortunately, this is when Ms. Keene announces a new project. "Partner up with the person next to you," she calls. Uriah looks at me and scoots his chair closer. This classroom has tables instead of desks, two students to each table, so it's obvious who my partner will be. I would usually be perfectly happy to have my boyfriend as my partner on a project, but why does she have to assign this project right when I am trying to avoid him so I can think?

"This will be a five page research paper, due October 13, and a ten minute presentation to the class," Ms. Keene explains, passing out the written requirements for the assignment and the grading rubric. "I'll assign the topics, then you can use the last two or three minutes to make arrangements with your partner." Ms. Keene writes a list of topics on the whiteboard and begins assigning pairs to each.

"The Compromise of 1850," Uriah reads aloud before jotting it down on the assignment paper. I just shove my assignment into my bag. "So, should we get started on this at your house after practice?"

"We have two weeks," I say dismissively. "No rush. We'll start it later."

The bell rings and I immediately hop up and throw my backpack over one shoulder. I try to disappear into the crowded hallway but I'm not fast enough. Uriah's fingers wrap around my arm and he pulls me aside, next to the wall.

"Hey, don't run off so fast," Uriah pleads. His hand slides down my forearm and his fingers lace with mine. It feels normal and safe, and I _want_ to just say everything is fine and pretend the last forty-eight hours never happened. But it would be a lie. I would be lying to him, and to myself. "Can't we talk about it?"

"Not here," I say.

His eyebrows pull together; he expected us to just kiss and make up and forget everything, but what good has that ever done us? We just keep having the same fights over and over, never really dealing with our problems. "Okay, well, where do you want to go? I don't want us to be like this, Tris."

"Uri…" I shake my head. When he's pissed off he won't give me the time of day, but when he's ready to make up he expects to do it right then and can be damn persistent. It always seems to be on his timeline. Well, today it won't be. "Not now. Later."

I let my hand go slack and try to step back into the current of students passing between classes. Uriah tightens his grip on me and pulls me back. "When?"

I snap my elbow back, ripping my hand out of his. "When I'm ready." My voice is stern. I take several quick steps and rush to Art class, leaving Uriah behind.

* * *

 _ **FOUR**_

* * *

After AP Euro, I go to trig and sit in my usual seat at the empty table in back. Tris comes in and sits across from me moments before the bell rings. I think it's the first time I've seen her show up to this class on time. She has a faraway look during the lesson. It's a look I saw in her eyes a few times yesterday, and it distracts me every time, makes me wonder what's going on in her head. She's quieter than most of her friends but at the same time, has this presence that makes you take notice of her.

This is my third day of school here; the first day, the teacher was caught up with the animals in the atrium and arrived very late; the second, she spent the whole time lecturing to catch up from the day before. But today she finishes the lesson about halfway through the class period and tells us to work on our homework for the rest of the class.

I quickly get to work, hoping to complete as much of my work as possible in class― maybe even get to some work I need to catch up on for other classes, like economics and AP Euro. Across the table from me, Tris opens her book to the problems we were assigned and writes her name, class period and date on a sheet of notebook paper. Across the room, Peter and Drew are joking around with their friends, laughing loudly. The teacher shushes them frequently but it's still distracting. When I glance up after completing the first four problems, Tris hasn't done any and is instead doodling in a corner of the paper.

"Need help?" I ask, nodding at her stalled assignment. She bites her lip shrugs, her eyes downcast. "It's ok if you do. I'm pretty good at math, you know."

"I'm not _bad_ at math," she defends. "It's just… hard to concentrate sometimes."

"Especially with all that going on," I murmur, nodding at Peter. Tris smiles in agreement.

Drew launches a pencil at Peter sitting across from him and misses; it flies past Peter's head and hits Ms. Graham in the forehead. My eyes go wide and Tris covers her mouth with her hand, stifling her laughter. Drew sits there with a satisfied smirk.

"That's it!" Ms. Graham shouts, jumping to her feet and slamming both palms on her desk. "Drew, go take one of those empty seats across the room! Any further disruption from either of you" she points at Drew and then Peter "and you'll be seeing Ms. Matthews."

Drew stands and gathers his books, sharing a knowing smirk with Peter. Tris huffs and slides her work across the table, then comes around to sit by me. "I'm not sitting next to the asshole," she mutters. "He's one of Peter's minions, I doubt he has an independent thought in his head." Drew drops his backpack on the floor and sits down across from us.

"So, when did you want to work on your truck?" I ask Tris, glancing up from my assignment.

She smiles as doodles flames along the margin of her paper. "Are you free this weekend? Obviously there's Zeke and Uri's party on Friday, but I'm not doing anything Saturday."

"I have plans in the evening," I say reluctantly, that stupid date that Zeke is dragging me on. I'll be twice as annoyed by the whole thing if it keeps me from doing something I'm actually looking forward to. Drew drops his pencil and crawls under the desk to search for it.

"That's fine. You can just text me when you get up or whatever." She passes her phone to me with a new contact screen open and I put in my name and phone number, then I send myself a text so I'll have her number too. I mentally fist pump at getting her number, even though I know she only gave it to me as friends.

Drew pops up next to the desk, smirks at us, and walks off and right up to the teacher's desk. "What is he up to?" I murmur.

"I don't know," Tris says quietly, "but I don't think it's anything good. I didn't like the way he looked at us. Whatever it is, I'm sure Peter is behind it. And Peter has a grudge against _you_ , Four."

Shit. And I have no idea what they have planned, so all I can do is sit here and watch whatever it is play out.

And a moment later, it does. Drew returns to our table at the back of the room with Ms. Graham trailing behind him. "Four," she says as Drew sits down, "a student has reported that he smells marijuana in your backpack. I'm afraid I'll need to search your bag."

 _What?!_ If those assholes successfully planted weed in my backpack, I'm so screwed. I'll be suspended from school and kicked off the football team.

And those will be the least of my problems when Marcus finds out.

But my best bet now is to act innocent… which I am. I've never smoked weed, and even if I did, I sure as hell wouldn't bring it to school and carry it around in my backpack!

"Be my guest," I say, grabbing the handle at the top and swinging the bag up onto the desk. "I have nothing to hide." From across the table Drew smirks at me. As Ms. Graham unzips my bag I see Peter across the room with a look of glee on his face.

The main compartment of my bag doesn't turn up anything unusual, and I don't smell weed even with the bag two feet from my face.

Then she opens the front pocket. She pauses and frowns at me, disappointment in her eyes, and my heart pounds. And then she pulls out what she founds and it's like a weight is on my chest keeping me from taking a full breath. Because in her fingers is a small ziploc baggie full of dried weed.


	10. Chapter 10

_Previously (Four POV):_

" _Be my guest," I say, grabbing the handle at the top and swinging the bag up onto the desk. "I have nothing to hide." From across the table Drew smirks at me. As Ms. Graham unzips my bag I see Peter across the room with a look of glee on his face._

 _The main compartment of my bag doesn't turn up anything unusual, and I don't smell weed even with the bag two feet from my face._

 _Then she opens the front pocket. She pauses and frowns at me, disappointment in her eyes, and my heart pounds. And then she pulls out what she founds and it's like a weight is on my chest keeping me from taking a full breath. Because in her fingers is a small ziploc baggie full of dried weed._

* * *

 _ **TRIS**_

* * *

"That's not mine," Four scoffs. He points at Drew. " _He_ put it there when he was picking up the pencil that he probably dropped on purpose!"

I roll my eyes, this is so stupid. How does Four not see it?! I see Peter's eyes widen as he realizes Drew's mistake. I jump up and snatch the baggie out of Ms. Graham's hands and smirk at Drew. "This isn't even weed!" I exclaim. I open the bag and smell the contents. "Smell it, Ms. Graham. That's oregano!"

What was the point of this? A bag of _oregano_? Drew can't be stupid enough to think this is actually weed, can he?

Four grabs the bag out of my hands and after putting his nose near the opening and sniffing, looks at me with wide eyes, then glares at Drew and shoves the bag at Ms. Graham.

I try not to giggle at Four's shock― it seems _he_ seriously thought that was weed as well.

"Hmph." Ms. Graham glares at Drew. "Tris, thank you for pointing that out." She narrows her eyes at me. "I apologize, Four. And Drew, I'll be speaking with Ms. Matthews about this." Drew's face is bright red and Peter is shooting him a death glare. Ms. Graham glances at the clock, as if she is just begging for the period to be over so she can get these idiots out of her classroom, and I do in turn; class is supposed to be over in three minutes. "You are all dismissed."

Ms. Graham's heels click on the tile floor as she hurries out the door with the baggie of oregano in hand.

I look at Drew and burst out laughing. His face turns an even brighter red, if that's possible. "I can't believe―" I gasp out "you really thought… you could get… Four in trouble… with _oregano._ " Four joins in my laughter, I can hardly breathe. "Did you pay for that shit?"

"You idiot!" Peter hisses storming over. "You said you tried it!" He's saying it in a harsh whisper but I still caught it and it only makes me laugh harder.

"I did!" Drew defends. Drew actually smoked oregano and didn't know it wasn't weed. He thought it would get him high… so it did. The power of suggestion.

"You two are morons," I chuckle as I zip up my backpack. "Come on, Four."

* * *

I buy my lunch today, so most of the gang is already in our usual lunch spot in a dead-end hallway when I arrive. And as soon as I sit down, I notice that Christina's voice is even louder and more shrill than usual as she interrogates Four about what happened in Trig.

I cringe as I realize it's my fault he's currently subjected to her questions. Her boyfriend, Will, is my only friend in my fourth period Physics class; today, we got last week's test back. I didn't do so well. Will offered to tutor me for free, which is nice of him, but it's not that the work is too hard… I just can't concentrate when I try to do it. He wouldn't drop it, though, so I had to redirect the conversation and Drew and Peter's failed attempt to set up Four was the first subject that came to mind.

Obviously what I shared already got back to Christina. Not that it's a secret, I just feel sorry for Four having to deal with her interrogation. Four is trying to answer her questions, but as more people listen in he keeps having to back up and rehash the same parts of the story.

Uriah sidles up next to me. "Tris," he says while everyone else is distracted with Four's story, "can we talk for a minute? Please?"

"Uriah, I'm not―"

"Just for a minute." I look at him and sigh. He's giving me the puppy dog eyes that he knows I can't say no to.

"One minute," I relent. He laces his fingers with mine and pulls me around the corner into another hallway, and into an alcove. I don't try to pull my hand away from his, instead I grip it tighter. I don't know what to do. I miss him… I miss the way we used to be together.

But I don't know if we can ever be that way again.

Uriah leans one shoulder against the lockers and raises his other hand to my face. I close my eyes and let out a slow exhale when he touches my cheek; the locker door next to me rattles as I lean my shoulder into it as well. "Tris," Uriah says softly. "Can we just talk about this? Not right now, I know. But… tonight? Please, Tris."

I stare straight ahead at his shoulder. "Uriah… I told you, I need some time."

"Baby…" he leans his forehead against mine and I close my eyes tight. I can't look in his eyes right now. "I know I screwed up. I just want to talk about it. Tris, look at me."

Don't look. Don't look, Tris. Keep them closed.

I open my eyes. And right there are those warm chocolate brown ones I can't say no to.

"Okay." Damn it. "Come over after practice tonight and… we'll talk."

The corners of his lips turn up into a slow grin. "Thank you, baby, thank you. I know we can figure this out. Come on, let's get back to lunch." I stand there feeling stunned as he kisses my forehead. He practically bounces as he grabs my hand and pulls me back down the hall to our usual lunch spot in the dead-end hallway. And I just follow along wondering what the hell I am going to say to him when he comes over tonight.

Because right now, I have no idea. And I only have about six hours to figure it out.

* * *

"Come on, Tris, we've got to hurry!" Shauna exclaims.

"Calm down," I answer shifting from second gear to third. It sputters as I try to accelerate. "It's an old truck, not a sports car."

"I don't understand why you like this old thing so much," she grumbles. "It sounds like an old motorboat. And smells like one, too."

I sigh, thinking back to all the times I spent with my mom, the hood propped up and grease on our hands. "Something's wrong with it. Four's going to help me fix it this weekend."

"That's nice of him," she says. "He's cute, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess," I mumble. I feel like I am betraying Uriah by saying so, but there's no use denying it; Four is one of the most attractive guys I've ever seen in person. "I think Marlene likes him, have you noticed? She was watching him during practice. I'll bet she'll be in the bleachers watching him when we get back there." I mean, I guess it's hard to be sure that he's the one she was looking at, but he was with Uriah and Zeke each time, so who else could it have been?

"I noticed him watching our cheerleading practice a few times as well," Shauna says. "Maybe he likes her back." Why wouldn't he like Marlene? She's beautiful. I should be happy for them both. But for some reason, I'm not.

I don't want to talk about Four and Marlene any more. Time to change the subject. "Okay, enough gossip. Will you please explain _why_ we went on an urgent ice cream run?"

"Well…" Shauna smirks. "While you and Uriah snuck off to make out or whatever you were doing," I snort, that is so not what we were doing, "Christina gave Four his first dare. We need to keep the team around for a while after practice and what better way to do that than free dessert?"

I shake my head. "What was the dare?"

"You'll see…"

* * *

"Is this dare happening anytime soon?" I complain. "We're almost out of ice cream, I don't think we can bribe them to stick around any longer."

"Oh, they'll be out anytime now. Everyone else has been out here a while; they can't stay in there forever," Zeke chuckles. Four smirks and pushes his bag with his feet so it is better hidden behind a bush. I narrow my eyes at him and he looks back with mock innocence.

Then I hear laughter and see everyone looking toward the locker rooms. Boys are wolf whistling and cat calling. "Nice boobies!" Zeke shouts as I try to push my way to the front of the crowd; I'm the shortest person here and can't see past anyone.

Uriah grabs my arm, grinning at me, and hunches down a bit as he lifts me onto his shoulders. Now I am high above the crowd and see what they are laughing at. My jaw drops and I cover my mouth with my hand before bursting into laughter, shaking so hard that Uriah can hardly keep hold of me.

Walking toward us are Peter and Drew, bare midriffs showing, their bodies bulging out of cheerleader uniforms that will probably never correctly fit their owners again. Drew does, indeed, have a nice pair of man-boobs. Peter looks murderous while Drew looks like he wants to crawl under a rock and die; both their faces are bright red in humiliation.

"Who took our clothes?!" Peter shouts, I only laugh harder. "Pedrad, was it one of you? Four? Come on, this isn't funny!"

"Actually, it's pretty hilarious," Coach Amar laughs between bites of his strawberry ice cream. "Come on, boys, I'll find you something else to wear."

Coach and the two assholes walk back to the building, with Coach still laughing and Peter shooting glares back at the team, and the football players soon begin to disperse. Uriah sets me back on my feet.

"Well done for a first dare, Four," I grin at him. He smiles back looking quite satisfied, and he should― they totally deserved it after what happened in math class. "Better start thinking of the next one, and make it good."

I sling my bag over my shoulder and get ready to head to my car. Uriah stops me with a hand to my shoulder. "Babe, how about I pick up a pizza on my way?"he suggests. "Then you won't have to cook dinner?"

I sigh. I get what he's doing, and I'm afraid it will work since I _still_ don't know what I'm going to say to him. At least this might give me a few more minutes, though. "Sure, sounds great, Uri."

He kisses my temple. "Okay, meet you there soon as I can!" He hurries to his Jeep and I stare after him.

"You okay?" I turn and see Four. It looks like we're the last two here.

I shrug. "I'll be fine. It's just…" I shake my head. I barely know him, I can't talk to him about any of this. "It's nothing. I'm fine. See you tomorrow, Four."

"Good night, Tris," I hear as I walk away.


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry this one took so long. My computer broke and I don't like writing on my phone. But I'm back! Thank you so much for reviews, follows and favorites so far, I love reviews, makes me happy! Yes, Fourtris will happen... eventually. Some other things have to happen first. ;)

* * *

 _ **URIAH**_

* * *

I feel determined, like I am on a mission and nothing can sidetrack me. I'm going to Tris's favorite pizza parlor to pick up a large pizza with her favorite toppings. Then I'm going to get back to her place as quick as possible so that she knows how serious I am about making all this right between us. It was Tris that started this whole fight but since she is more stubborn than a bull, she's not going to see past my screw-up last night at this point.

Tris and I have been together for a long time― since the end of our freshman year of high school. I've had plenty of opportunity now to learn how to fix it when we have a fight. Tris needs to feel heard, know you're really listening to her, but I also have to be careful not to be too "you were right" about it all because if I go overboard with that, she might start to think that maybe she actually under-reacted and that could make it all even worse.

We've been fighting more often lately, and anytime I think that maybe we might not make up one of these times, it makes my chest tight. Tris has been important to me for half my life now and I've wanted her to be _my_ Tris, have thought of her as _my_ Tris, since the seventh grade. But I was too chicken to say anything about it. Sure, there were times I was distracted by other girls, or by an argument, but it has always come back to Tris. If I were to let her go, I might never have a chance to get her back. I was afraid I had lost my chance when she briefly dated Peter in ninth grade. When they broke up, I just wanted to be with her even more than before, to protect her from ever being caught up with an asshole like him again.

I pick up the pizza and start toward Tris's house, but I've only gone a few blocks when I notice the car pulled off on shoulder of the highway. I recognize that car, it's Al's… and that's Al's large body hunched over the open trunk, and Marlene standing off to the side watching.

I pull up behind them and turn off my Jeep. "Need some help?" I call as I approach them. Marlene's face lights up in a winning smile and Al hits his head on the door to the trunk as he stands.

"I'm not sure how much you can do," Al says, rubbing his head. "I've got a flat and my spare…" I peer into the trunk and see where he has pulled up the carpet to reveal a donut-type spare tire… flat as a pancake. "I'm going to have to call a tow truck."

"That sucks, man," I say. Marlene runs her fingers through her hair and shifts impatiently. I know she's worried about our chapter test in math class tomorrow and wanted to get some extra study time in tonight. She has been having a hard time getting the hang of this unit, I've been helping her with the homework all week in the second half of algebra class, when Mr. Parker lets us work on the homework.

"Marlene, you want a ride home?" I offer. Al will have to stay here and wait for the tow truck, but there's no reason Marlene needs to go with him to get the tire fixed.

"Yeah, thank you," she says quickly. She grabs her bag out of the backseat and hurries past me to hop in the Jeep. Al thanks me for stopping and I say goodbye and get back in the car.

Marlene glances at me and says, "So... what habit are you choosing to change on your own for the psychology project?"

Marlene and I are doing a psychology project together. It's about behavior modification and changing habits. We are testing what makes a person more successful in changing habits. Everyone had to choose one of the tips for changing habits and prove or disprove it by choosing one habit to keep a secret and change/kick/make, and one to work on with a partner and support each other and check in through it. So Marlene and I chose the mutual bad habit of staying up way too late. We both have committed to be in bed by midnight every weeknight for the two weeks―the duration of this project..

I cringe. "You know I can't tell you." I kind of want to, though. But she would feel compelled to offer support and then our experiment wouldn't work.

"Fine," she grins. Her whole face lights up when she smiles, I always love how full of light and energy and how happy she looks. "So… what about the part of this project we _are_ allowed to discuss. How about… we text each other at like 11:30, keep each other accountable so we can be sure we get to sleep on time."

"That's a good idea," I smile back. "I'm going to have to find a different time to keep up my candy crush skills if we're going to bed so early now, though."

"Yeah," she pokes my side, "but maybe you'll stop falling asleep in Mr. Parker's class." I laugh; she's right, I'm always falling asleep in Psychology class. It's the very end of the day, when I always seem to get that mid-afternoon slump.

We sit in silence for a few blocks and it starts to feel sort of like the air in the car is charged with some weird nervous energy. It's hard to keep my eyes on the road sometimes because I'm distracted by the way Marlene keeps twirling her blonde hair around her fingers. "That pizza smells really good," Marlene murmurs.

"You want a piece?" I offer. "I'm taking it over to Tris's, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"Oh," Marlene sounds kind of sad or disappointed, when she seemed so happy before. What did I say to bring down her mood? "No, that's okay, you should save it for you and Tris." Marlene stares out the window. "So you guys are all good again, then?"

"Uh, no." Suddenly I feel a little awkward talking to her about Tris. "We're um… we're going to _talk._ Hopefully we'll be good after that, though."

"Hmm," she hums, sounding distracted. I'm relieved to see her driveway half a block away because for some reason things have started to feel really awkward. I pull into the driveway and put the car in park. Marlene turns to me before she gets her stuff together. "Well, thanks for the ride, Uriah. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Actually, I'll talk to you tonight," I remind her. She looks at me, confused. "You know, the text? For the psychology project?"

"Oh!" she laughs nervously. "Oh, right. Yeah, I'll talk to you later tonight. 11:30."

"Until then," I nod. "Bye, Mar."

"Bye, Uri," she says, then the door shuts and I watch her walk to the side door, her blonde curls swinging halfway down her back, my eyes drawn to the sway of her hips.

My phone chimes and I rip my gaze away from my friend to see Tris's name on the screen. I quickly text back that I had to take a detour but I am on my way, and with a sigh, back out of Marlene's driveway.

* * *

I wrap the leftover pizza in foil while Tris loads the dishwasher. Even with the sound of the faucet running and the foil crinkling, the silence between us is heavy and awkward. Tris shuts off the faucet and slowly dries her hands before finally turning around and leaning back against the cabinets, her elbows bent and both hands gripping the edge of the counter, not quite meeting my eyes.

"Tris, I'm sorry about last night. I'm trying to change, I promise," I say softly. I roll the lint from the corner of my pocket between my fingers, trying to calm and focus my mind. "I even chose the whole drinking thing as a bad habit to break for my psychology project." Telling someone about my goal is technically against the rules for this part of the project, but I need her to know. She gets really uptight about this stuff, and she isn't going to let it go so we can talk about anything else unless she's convinced that I'm 'hearing her' or whatever.

Tris raises her eyebrows. "You did?" I nod. "Thank you. I just wish I felt like you really understood," she sighs. "But I'm glad you're trying to change anyway." I don't know what to say to that. But if she's really going to let it go, that's good enough for me; I don't intend to ever make that mistake again, anyway.

"So… when you said you didn't need me…" I trail off. "What did you― I mean― I don't know, Tris." I can't seem to get the words out, to tell her that it _hurt_ when she said that. Even though I think she knows.

"I didn't mean it," she says. "I'll always need you, Uriah. You're not just my boyfriend, you're one of my best friends. I was just being stubborn. But sometimes I feel like it's better if I don't need anyone, because I can't count on you to be there, anyway."

The fuck? When have I ever not been there for her?! After all these years, what, she doesn't trust me? "Excuse me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I feel every muscle in my body tensing.

"I mean, that whenever I say the wrong thing and you get mad, you ignore me. It's like I told you earlier today, Uriah. When we fight, making up is always on _your_ timeline. I don't even know what I want right now, but you talked me into having this discussion when you knew I wasn't ready, anyway!"

She's right. I know she is. I know it because I feel like walking away from this right now. Because I don't know if I can promise not to do that again. I don't like emotional, talky kind of conflict. I'm good with an actual, physical fight to protect myself or someone else, but this kind of stuff? I'd rather just avoid it until it blows over and things can be happy again. It's how Zeke and I have always handled our disagreements, but I know from experience it doesn't work like that with Tris, so I wanted to talk and get past it as soon as I felt like I was past it for myself.

"I don't know if I can promise not to ever do that again," I sigh. "But I will try my best not to, and to give you space when you need it. Can we just move on from all this bullshit now, Tris?"

"Bullshit?" Tris hisses. Shit. Bad choice of words.

"Um... no." I hurry to fix it. "I didn't mean it like that, Tris. I just meant... I want everything back to normal, for us to be, you know... good. Are we done with this fight? Can I just have my Trissy back now, please?"

Tris huffs. "Fine. As long as you don't call me Trissy again."

I laugh and take a few steps across the kitchen toward her and pull her into my arms. "That's another thing that I can't promise," I whisper into her ear. I pull back. "Because it's just too fun to bait you."

Tris lightly smacks my chest, but the corners of her lips are turned up like she can't quite hide her smile. It's adorable, so I lean in and kiss the the right corner first, and then the left. The left side, I can feel a bit more of a smile than I could on the right.

"Admit it," I tease and as the words leave my mouth, I quickly jerk my hands from where they rest on her back so there's one at each side of her waist. I squeeze again and again, moving my hands incrementally up and down tickling her sides as she doubles over laughing, trying to writhe away from me and gasping for breath. My Trissy is so ticklish, I should just tickle my way out of our next fight. I'm usually too mad in the moment, though, to think of something like that.

"Stop!" Tris gasps between loud lasps. "Stop it, Uri! Don't forget you're ticklish too!" As she says this, she twists away from me, ducking under my arm, and begins to attack my knees- the most ticklish part of my body. Just above the kneecap. My legs buckle and we fall to the floor in a heap, wrestling each other and after trading dominance a few times, stop to catch our breath with me laying on my back and Tris straddling my stomach.

She lowers herself to me and nuzzles her head into my shoulder, and I wrap my arms around her and close my eyes, feeling content. But when she speaks again, it seems that our tickle-fest has not cured everything after all, because her voice isn't happy like I expected it to be.

"Uriah..." she says, "Will we ever be US again? I mean... things haven't been..."

I gulp. "I know," I say. Things have been rocky for a while, and I don't like it, but I don't know how to change it either. All I really do know is that I don't want to lose her. I need her in my life. "We're still us though, Tris. Every couple has rough patches."

"For how long? I can't keep doing this."

"Tris..." I let go of her and turn my body to face her, propping myself up on one elbow on the hard wooden floor. "What are you saying? Are you- you're not saying this is... over?" I really hope that isn't what she is saying right now.

Tris reaches out and cups my face in her hand. "No." I sigh with relief. "But Uriah... I'm not saying this is all on you or anything, but we can't keep fighting and then... just barely making up and pretending nothing is wrong. If things don't change... then we won't last. Understand?"

I just stare at her for a moment. I do understand. Or at least I think I do. I think she's saying... that this is our last chance. That if I, if either of us, screws up too bad again anytime too soon, she's giving up on me, on us.

So I say the only thing I can get out. "Yeah. I understand."


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N:**_ _This took me forever… the chapter ended up totally different than what I had planned. What can I say, Tris can be pretty stubborn. Hopefully she won't make you wait so long for the next one._

* * *

 **FOUR POV**

Friday morning I walk into first period Chemistry class and sit down next to Marlene. Zeke is over at Maria's desk again, his shirt sleeves rolled up, the tie loose and the top two buttons of his shirt undone, thankfully he has a t-shirt under his dress shirt. We have a game tonight, so the team has to wear dress shirts and ties to school. I hate dressing up. It reminds me of being dragged to business events with Marcus. We could never have gotten away with the way Zeke is wearing them at my old school, but I follow Zeke's example and loosen my tie.

We do a lab today, and Marlene and I work together while Zeke somehow manages to make the teacher pair him up with Maria. We totally get the chemicals wrong (and when I say we, I mean Marlene) and it explodes in a cloud of red chalk-like substance, coating my face. I'm very glad that I have safety goggles today.

Marlene looks at me and bursts into a loud belly laugh. "It's all in your hair," she breathes out, still laughing at me, "all over your face, and you just had to wear a white dress shirt today, didn't you?" Oh shit, my dress shirt!

"You know this was your fault, right? Not mine! I can't believe you're laughing at me," I retort, but even as I say this, I can't hold back my own laughter any more, either.

"Come on," Marlene chuckles. "Let's go get you cleaned up." She grabs my wrist and begins pulling me toward the sink at one side of the classroom, but it's already got a line waiting, so she pulls me out the door and into the hall.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"Bathroom," she says. My eyes widen, does that mean I'm going in the girls' room or she's coming into the boys'? It's kind of stupid but I have always wondered what the girls' bathroom is like.

We pass Shauna in the hall and she raises her eyebrows at us and gives Marlene a weird look.

Marlene does indeed pull me into the girls' bathroom. I'm a little disappointed by how plain it is... I don't know what I was expecting. However, it's still definitely different from the boys' room. Marlene begins to wet paper towels and brush me off. "It smells a lot better in here than the boys' room," I comment. This bathroom looks only slightly cleaner, but there's no gross smell in here.

Marlene giggles. "Yeah, that's why we're here and not in the boys' bathroom."

"You've been in the boys' room?"

Marlene shrugs. "Because of a dare." She points at my head, then at the sink. "Bend down," she orders me.

After she has finished washing my hair out with cool water and soap, I have a bit of a kink in my neck and back, but I'm clean, other than the shirt. We stop by my locker on the way back to class- I carry my backpack with me during the day, but my extra clothes and shoes and stuff for practice stay in my locker. I grab the t-shirt I brought for practice this afternoon and turn with my back to the locker before quickly whipping off the dirty white shirt and putting the black t-shirt on in its place. I notice Marlene staring at my abs and chest after I take off the dress shirt and (now stained) white t-shirt underneath, and I smirk at her.

I smirk at her. "Like what you see?" I tease her, and Marlene flushes bright red.

"Sorry," she mutters as we start walking back to class.

"It's fine," I laugh, "I was just teasing you. I know I'm hard to look away from."

Marlene just rolls her eyes.

* * *

 **TRIS POV**

I rub my hands over my legs, trying to warm them up, then pull a black beanie onto my head in another attempt to warm up; I don't know why they make us wear these cheerleader outfits on game day, it's too cold for these short skirts.

My guidance counselor had someone pull me out of class to come to her office and she isn't even here, I'm just sitting here… waiting. Not that I really wanted to be in physics class, but this room is equally boring. I pull out my phone to pass the time.

After five minutes of Candy Crush, I hear the door swing open and Tori walks in. She takes the seat across from me and smiles as I put away my phone. Tori's a lot cooler than the other people that work at this school: she prefers we call her by her first name because she says that it makes her feel old when we call her 'Ms. Wu', and she wears tattoos on her arms and her hair in dreadlocks.

"I'm sorry to make you miss class," she starts. I shrug. I don't care about missing class, I'm just wondering why. "I wanted to talk to you about your grades, Tris. What's been going on?"

I shift in my seat and wipe my palms on my legs, which is not helpful since I'm wearing my cheerleader uniform. "What do you mean?"

Tori gives me a pointed look. "Well, Tris, you were a nearly straight- A student until a year ago." She types a few keys on her keyboard, then swivels the computer monitor so that I can see it. The split screen shows all my final grades in high school so far on one side, and my current grades in all seven of the classes I am taking right now. "As you can see," she continues, "your freshman year you maintained a grade point average of about 3.8, which is excellent. That fell to a 3.5 the fall term of your sophomore year." That's when Mom died— last November. "In the spring, however, your GPA dropped to a 2.0." Last spring my only A was in PE. The rest of my classes, I scored C's and D's.

Tori looks at me and I stare back at her. She's telling me things I already know. Tori sighs when I don't say anything. "Tris, I know your mom passed away," she says gently. "I know a year is not enough time to move on from something like that, but I don't want to see you limit your options for the future. Right now, you're failing math when you used to ace that subject every time; soon you're going to drag your cumulative GPA down below the 3.0 mark. If this continues for the rest of high school, Tris, it's going to be very difficult for you to get into a good college. If you work hard now, you can bring these scores up. What can I do to help you?"

I stare down at my hands and shrug. No one understands how hard it is to sit down and do the work. My mind won't stay on my task, it just wanders, every time. I don't see how there's anything she can do to help me with that.

Why does she care, anyway? My family doesn't, why should she?

Tori frowns. "Tris, can you do something for me, please?"

I shrug. "Maybe. Depends what it is."

Tori sighs. "I want you to think about where you want to be ten years from now. What kind of life you want to have, what you want to do with your days, what would make you feel fulfilled. Alright? Then we will meet again in a week or so and figure out how you're going to get there."

I have no idea what I want to do in the future, I rather just think about today. But if agreeing to this is the way to get Tori off my back for now and get out of this office… "Fine," I say. "I will."

"I'll see you soon then, Tris," Tori smiles, then she stands and ushers me out of her office.

* * *

Ms. Nelson has just assigned us a project on The Great Gatsby, and she wants us to work in pairs. We have to read the book and watch the movie, and compare and contrast them. It's due in a week. Lynn passes the last paper in the stack back to me while Shauna passes a paper back to Four. I know Lynn and Shauna will want to pair up; they're step-sisters, so it's easy for them to work together, living in the same house and all.

I quickly turn to Four. "Partners?" I ask and he nods eagerly just Nicole taps his arm says, "Four, do you want to be partners?"

"Uh, sorry Nicole," Four says as he scoots his desk closer to mine. "I'm already partners with Tris. Maybe next time."

Nicole smiles. "Next time," she says. But when Four turns back to faces me, Nicole glares at me.

I bite my lip and think about my conversation with Tori last period. Maybe 4 should work with Nicole. I'm sure that she is a much better student than I am. If he works with me I might drag his grade down.

"Four," I say quietly, "are you sure that you don't want to work with Nicole instead?"

"What? Of course I'm sure. Why wouldn't I want to work with you?"

I bite my lip. I don't want to admit to Four that I'm not even passing all my classes, that I only have an A in PE, that Tori just called me into her office because my grades are so bad.

But if I do this project with him I also can't let him down. If I do, then not only will he know what a failure I am, it will affect his grade too. Or else he will have to do all the work himself, and I can't do that to a friend.

It's decision time. I'm going to do this project with Four, and somehow, I'm going to do it well.

I smile at Four and ignore Nicole's hateful look.

"No reason," I say. "Just making sure."

"It looks like everyone has chosen a partner," Ms. Nelson calls out. "You've got about ten minutes left in class; use this time to exchange contact information with the partner you've chosen and decide on some times to meet up. The project is due next Friday."

I flip through the book and frown; it's been a while since I actually finished a book assigned in class. But I'll have to do it this time. "I wonder if the spark notes for this thing are any good," I mumble.

Four laughs. "Come on, Tris, it's not even 200 pages long. I'm sure you've read the Hunger Games, right? That's like twice as long!"

"Still, it's a school book," I groan.

"I think you'll survive," he chuckles. "So, we need to pick a day to watch the movie, and I guess you haven't started this book yet so we'd better give you a few days to read it first. How about Tuesday, your place?"

"Why my place?" I prod. "Trying to keep the mysterious new kid vibe going?"

"Something like that," he mutters. "We can go to mine if you really want, but trust me, your place is better."

"Fine, my place, then. You bring the popcorn."

"Deal," he says.

I start packing my stuff up but I can't help shivering, it's cold in here, even with the beanie. When I look up a hoodie has appeared on my desk. I look at Four and raise an eyebrow. "You're obviously cold," he says. "Take it."

I chew on my cheek trying to decide, but he's right, I am cold. I quickly pull it on. "Thanks," I say.

Four looks like he's contemplating something, then he grabs the beanie off my head. I yelp in protest and try to smooth down my hair but he just grins as he pulls it on his own head. "Collateral," he says with a shrug. I roll my eyes and try to grab it back, but just as I almost reach it he grabs my wrist. It quickly becomes a game to us, me trying to get my hat and Four stopping me when I've almost reached it.

The bell startles me, how did ten minutes already go by? Lynn is immediately up and heading to the door. "Get a room," she mutters as she walks by me.

I drop my hands and my smile, and my cheeks warm.. Get a room?

Wait… was I just flirting with Four?


	13. Chapter 13

**FOUR POV**

"You trying to impress a girl or something?" Zeke asks, elbowing me in the side. "I've never seen you so obsessed with your hair before."

I've been standing here fiddling with my hair for several minutes, and we are two of the last players left in the locker room. But I know Zeke has to get going soon because the after-party to celebrate our win tonight is at his house.

Really, I'm not so worried about my hair, or impressing some girl... though. I wouldn't mind Tris noticing me... but she has a boyfriend, so I don't stand an snowman's chance in hell. No, I don't really care so much about my hair. I'm just stalling.

"Maybe," I say noncommittally. "I guess you'll have to just keep wondering." I clap Zeke on the shoulder with my hand.

I turn and start walking out of the locker room. "Aw, come on, man- don't leave me hanging here, who do you like?!" Zeke calls, catching up to me.

"I didn't even say I liked anyone, Zeke. If I did, you don't think I'd give up the information that easily, do you?"

"Whatever, man," Zeke scoffs. "Just don't you dare bail on me for that double date tomorrow."

"I won't," I groan. "But don't expect to ever drag me on another one again. This is a one-time favor."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll see. Nicole's cute, she likes you, and from what I've heard she's no prude," Zeke tells me. "Maybe after this you'll be all on board for as many dates as I'll bring you on." He wiggles his eyebrows. I just roll my eyes.

We come back out to the field on the way to the parking lot. Zeke doesn't seem to notice the man leaning against the wall of the concessions stand, which has now been closed up, the bleachers empty other than a few volunteer students picking up trash that other students left behind. But I notice him. I'm so aware of his presence, I couldn't forget if I tried.

"I'll see you at your place later for the party, Zeke. I have to do something first."

Zeke waves and leaves without me to the parking lot, and I cringe to myself as I force my feet to make their way to the man who stands there, watching me.

I noticed him here shortly before halftime. I was so surprised by his presence, I couldn't control the quick rush of anxiety rippling through me and tripped up, fumbling and accidentally turning over the ball to the other team. Luckily, I helped the team recover it in the next play, but my stomach has been churning ever since.

"Hello, son," he says darkly when I stop a yard away from him.

"Hi, Dad," I say cautiously. "I didn't expect to see you tonight."

"You're now the star quarterback for Dauntless High School, defending state champions," Marcus says. "Of course I came to see you play, son. Though I hope tonight there weren't any scouts out there to witness that fumble."

I knew he'd bring it up. I stand straighter. "It won't happen again, Sir."

He nods once, critical eyes boring into me. "You know I expect you to secure a scholarship, and you won't if you continue to play like that."

Marcus has always demanded excellence in everything, so from the moment I asked to play football in sixth grade, he has made it clear that sports are only worthwhile if I can make sure it positively impacts my future— as in, funding for college. The man has more money than God, but of course he doesn't want to spend a dime of it on his only child's education, if he can help it.

And when Marcus expects something of someone… it carries a silent or else.

I do my best to nudge our conversation into a closing topic; there's something odd about his appearance here, and I won't be able to quash this unsettled feeling until I can get out of my father's presence. "Sir? Mom said you wanted to meet me for dinner this Wednesday? I will be at practice until 6."

"Morton's. Seven o'clock sharp," he clips. "I expect an update on your classes." There won't be much to update him about; I've only been at this school for a week. I nod, itching for any signal that I can flee to my car. Then Marcus simply nods back, turns and walks away.

I deliberately pace myself walking back to my car, not wanting anyone to see me run like a spooked little kid. It's not until I am enclosed in my car, my forehead resting on the steering wheel, that the pressure that had built in my chest starts to ease. My pulse is still racing, I consciously try to relax my tensed muscles. It's always worse like this when I'm not expecting to see him.

I allow myself to sit there for a few minutes, then finally start the car to head to Zeke's party.

* * *

When I arrive at Zeke and Uriah's house, I am still tense, and the party is in full swing. A few teens mill around on the front yard with red plastic cups in their hands, and the music is so loud that the bass reverberates through me, seeming to set my heartbeat to a new pace to match, even from outside.

A few people call out "good game!" and things like that as I walk by, and I just wave and smile and continue up the walk to the Pedrads' house. As soon as I enter the front door, the strong odors of beer and liquor are overwhelming, and now I'm positive that my heartbeat has adjusted to meet the beat of the music. The living room furniture has been pushed to the sides, creating a dance floor. The first couple my eyes fall on, not at the edge of the crowd but closer to me than the center, is Uriah and Tris. His hands roam her body and my stomach churns at how comfortable he is feeling her up in front of half the school, but she doesn't seem to mind. Her eyes are unfocused and her head is thrown back against his chest; I would guess she's already well on her way to full-on drunk. No doubt Uriah is as well by the way he sways a little unsteadily as he rocks against her suggestively.

At school today, it was as if nothing had ever happened though Tris and Uriah could hardly seem to look at each other the day two days before—Uriah avoided Tris one day, then Tris avoided Uriah the next. Not surprising after he showed up to her place drunk two nights ago, but I didn't expect them to be all lovey-dovey already today. Zeke certainly got an earful for letting his brother leave in that state.

Still feeling amped from my encounter with Marcus, I turn and head straight for the coolers of beer on the back deck. A few crowds of people are milling around talking and laughing.

I need to loosen up and forget my father if I'm going to enjoy this party, so I gulp down the first beer quickly and pop open a second, but only take a small sip this time.

"Four! You made it!" I hear and I turn to see Zeke. "Come on, Nicole needs a partner for beer pong! I'm playing with Maria, of course."

I groan, but otherwise I'll either be standing around out here with people I don't know, or in the living room watching Uriah find even bolder places to put his hands on Tris, so I turn and follow anyway.

I didn't go to parties much at my other schools- only if Marcus was away on business. Otherwise, I came straight home after games or whatever I had going on, he would never have allowed me to go. As a result, I've only played beer pong a couple of times, but I'm relieved that I have because I know I would look like an idiot if I didn't understand the rules... especially after showcasing my naivety when I couldn't recognize the difference between oregano and marijuana. My cheeks heat up at the recollection, and at remembering the incredulous look on Tris's face when she realized that I bought into the trick, too.

I also remember the way the teacher narrowed her eyes at Tris, surely wondering how Tris was so well aware of the difference that she immediately knew just by sight. I suppose that weed is another thing I'll be introduced to at this new school, though I don't smell it from where I stand tonight.

When I approach the table, already set up for the game of beer pong, Nicole's face lights up. I come to stand by her and she wraps her hands around my arm, practically hanging off of me.

"You start, Four," Zeke says. *Thank you, Zeke.* I give Nicole a look and she blushes realizing that I need my arm back to throw the ball.

I'm not well practiced at this game, but my aim is good. The whole time we play, Nicole keeps touching me and I keep trying to shy away from her, find excuses to step back, but she never seems to take the hint. Tomorrow's date will be really awkward, I can't help thinking.

I mean, Nicole is nice and all, and she's pretty enough. I just... don't feel any connection with her. She has tried to talk with me in English class each day but I'm simply not interested. The date hasn't even happened yet, and I already regret it.

There's only one girl I am interested in, and she's currently grinding against her boyfriend on the dance floor.

Maybe I could try to have a good time with Nicole. Maybe.

Nicole and I lose the first game of beer pong, and I already have a slight buzz.

"Rematch!" Nicole demands, smiling at me. "I swear I can do better than that." I shrug and look to Zeke.

Zeke grins and rubs his hands together. "I never back down from a challenge! Loser refills the beers."

I start toward the coolers and Nicole begins to follow, but she's tripping over her own feet, definitely more drunk than I am. "Don't worry about it, Nicole, I got it. I'll be right back." The adoring smile on her face leaves my stomach twisting with unease as I walk away.

When I step out onto the back deck I head for the coolers, but on my way there someone literally stumbles into me. I reach out on reflex and catch her under her arms before I see who it is. Tris.

"Oops, sorry," a nasal, sarcastic voice mocks. "You're so short I didn't even see you." Then the girl snickers. She has an ugly laugh.

"Creative," Tris bites back sarcastically. "You come up with that all on your own, Molly?" Tris's lips twist into a devious smile, and she straightens and steps away from me, stumbling slightly on her way to Molly. Tris says something too quietly for me to hear, but it must be effective: Molly huffs and glares before turning on her heel and storming off.

Tris turns back to me. "Thanks for catching me, Four," she smiles, then clears her throat awkwardly. "Uh, you played a good game today."

I lean against the railing, my body angled toward hers. "Thanks. Except that fumble," I mumble.

Tris rolls her eyes. "Nobody's perfect. You got the ball back in the next play and more than made up for it with that pass." I know she's referring to the final play of the game, even if she's had too many beers to articulate it herself. "You're really good, Four."

I can't help grinning at her words. "Sounds like you've been paying attention," I tease, my eyes drawn to her lips…I really wish she'd stop chewing on that bottom lip, I can't look away.

"I like football," Tris defends as she blushes and looks down, a strand of hair falling across her cheek. There's a slight frown on her lips when she looks back up. I can't stop myself from reaching out and tucking the loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Tris's eyes widen and she takes a step back from me. My stomach drops through the floor—I shouldn't have touched her, I shouldn't even be around her right now. She has a boyfriend and I must be more buzzed than I realized, because I can hardly seem to control myself around her right now.

"Uh, I, um…I'd better go, Uriah's probably looking for me." Then Tris walks briskly across the deck and back into the house, somehow managing to stay steady. I stare after her, but she doesn't glance back.

A throat clears, getting my attention, and there stands Nicole, looking totally furious. "Came to see what was taking so long with those beers," she says accusingly. Nicole begins to angrily grab beers out of the cooler and push them into my arms.

"Uh… did I do something wrong?" I ask.

She stands and glares at me. "Should we bother with that date tomorrow, or are you just going to flirt with other girls then, too?"

My eyes widen. Am I really that obvious? I've got to reign it in; yeah, I've got a huge crush on Tris, but she's dating Uriah. My teammate. Zeke's brother. And Zeke is the best friend I have made here so far. "I don't know what you're talking about," I lie.

Nicole snorts. "Sure. Let me make it easy for you, then." She drops all but one beer back in the cooler and slams it shut. "We'll skip the date, you probably need time to work on your project with Tris." Then she stomps away, making a point knock her elbow into my arm as she passes me.

At least I don't have to go on that awkward date tomorrow.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: I know absolutely nothing about carburetors or old trucks, I just googled so if I got something wrong... just pretend it wasn't. I helped my boyfriend fix his car a couple times, and it was fun, but I really don't know that much about cars._

* * *

 **FOUR**

"So, how did you learn to do this?" Tris asks me as I fit the pieces of the carburetor together. I tense, not wanting to talk about the person who taught me to fix up my car... never wanting to talk about _him_.

"My father did," I say, my voice sounding colder than I mean for it to, colder than I ever would want it to sound with Tris.

"That sounds nice," she says slowly, but I can feel her studying me.

"Hold this," I murmur, showing her what I need help with. I instruct her on the next step by asking her what she thinks comes next, then guiding her through the parts she doesn't know.

Tris knows more than she thinks she does about fixing a car. When I arrived this morning, she was hesitant to guess what she thought might be going wrong under the hood, like she was embarrassed to guess the wrong thing. We went for a drive and I knew what we should look at first immediately, but I asked her questions about what she was hearing, feeling, etc. and what she thought could cause that. In the end, she came to the same conclusion I did: we needed to rebuild the carburetor.

"I mean, that's good time spent together. At least, it was for my mom and me." Her eyes stay on the parts we are assembling the whole time, not daring to look up to mine.

I sigh. "Yeah... I suppose. And I did learn a lot. I just... I don't know, my dad and I... don't get on too well." I explain vaguely. "And I felt like he had other reasons than just wanting to spend time getting to know me."

I think back to that time, shortly before my fifteenth birthday, when I brought home the Mustang. I had saved my pay from mowing lawns, painting houses, and doing odd jobs around the neighborhood for more than two years to earn enough to buy that car. Even then, the best one I could afford was damn near unsalvageable, barely getting back to my house from the next town over, where I had purchased it from a guy living in a double-wide trailer.

The car sat on four cinder bricks in the side yard for more than a month while I scoured videos on YouTube and books from the library, and any internet resources I could find, for enough information to fix the my dream car up on my own. Marcus had no interest in helping me learn.

"How could he have an ulterior motive to helping teaching you to fix a car?" Tris asks. She scrunches her nose the way I have noticed she always does when she's confused. It's adorable. Her curious nature, however, I am finding to be inconvenient.

I pretend to concentrate on the very simple task I am completing while I think of my answer. But she has told me a lot more than I expected about her family, her past... painful subjects. I am not prepared to tell her my secrets, but I can afford a little honesty. After all, it's Tris.

"My mom," I say. I sigh and pause my work, sitting back and looking at her. "My dad only worried about being father- or husband-of-the-year when he was in public," I explain. "At home, where there was no one to impress..." I shrug. "But my mom got sick of that and she left. I was ten at the time." I pick up the parts again, needing something to distract me from how much I am revealing to this girl, and I start putting it together again.

"She was gone for four years," I tell her. "Then when I was almost fifteen, she came back. She couldn't take me with her, she wasn't stable, but at least she did come back for me eventually. She couldn't get me away from him, though, so they got back together. He was wanting her to stay... trying to pretend he was this great dad to me, blah blah blah."

Four years she left me alone with _him_. I try to forget about it, I really do try. But I'm not certain that I will ever be able to fully forgive my mother.

Tris looks at me. Then she doesn't ask the things I think she will- for more specific explanation as to in what ways my father is deceiving others, what kind of father and husband he _really_ is. Instead she catches what I didn't expect her to, while seeming to know that now is the time to stop asking questions, probing for more information. She just says, "Four years. That's why you call yourself 'Four.' The real reason. Isn't it?"

I nod slowly but my heart races. If she understands how significant those four years were in becoming who I am today, she is seeing right through me, more than I thought she would… more than I think I want her to.

But whatever she thinks she knows, it's too late now. I will just have to trust her.

"Well, that's it, isn't it?" Tris suddenly says and I realize that we have been staring at each other longer than is socially acceptable, she is trying to break the tension.

I smile. "Yep, you just rebuilt your carburetor. Let's get it hooked back up and see how she sounds."

When we have hooked the carburetor back up to the accelerator pump and the choke, and everything is back as it should be, I climb in the passenger seat and Tris climbs in behind the wheel. We fasten our lap belts- this truck is too old to have come with shoulder belts- and Tris gives me a nervous grin as she slowly slides the key into the ignition.

The truck doesn't stall when she turns the key, but instead nearly roars to life with little coaxing. Tris bounces in her seat at the early signs that we've had a successful day in the garage.

She backs carefully out of the driveway and puts it in first gear. I watch her expertly work the clutch and pedals as she accelerates onto a busy street. This morning, it would sputter when she tried to accelerate, but not now.

"Purring like a kitten," I say, smiling at her.

"Yep," she says, "like a kitten. No more old motor boat." I laugh.

* * *

We cruise around for a few minutes, Tris grinning like a fool at our accomplishment, until she finally pulls up to a park. Or rather a field with an opening at the edge of a forest. "What's this place?" I ask her.

Tris shrugs. "You helped me today, I thought I'd give you something in return. This is the place I come when I want to get away from everything. You trusted me, so I think you deserve my trust in showing this to you."

Tris leads me down the trail, but soon branches off to a path that I would not have noticed if she had not been leading me. It is overgrown, and I can barely tell where we will follow it next, but Tris knows the way. I wonder if she is the only one who uses this less-traveled trail.

Soon we pass through an opening in the trees where the branches are so low that even Tris has to crouch a little bit; being much taller than she, I have to practically fold myself in half. But when we pass into the clearing, it's all worth it.

The river is loud here, and I can just see it through the trees on the opposite side of the small clearing. We pass through the open space and Tris leads me to a cluster of large, flat rocks at the water's edge. We sit with our feet dangling in the mist kicked up by the white, swiftly-moving water.

The rushing water fills the silence between us. It's not an awkward silence; it's very comfortable, actually. Neither of us needs to ask the other any questions, entertain the other, we can just sit together, just _be_ , in a way that I don't remember just existing next to anyone else, without feeling as though they expected anything of me.

It's freeing. It's perfect.

Until the perfect, consuming silence is interrupted by the ringing of Tris's cell phone.

Tris smiles at me in apology as she her phone out from her jeans pocket and swipes at the screen to answer the call. But I already saw the picture on screen: it features Uriah giving Tris a piggyback ride, her face peeking over his shoulder. It brings me back to reality with a twist in my stomach.

Tris's voice fades out as she walks back to the clearing to take the call from her boyfriend, and I stand up and stretch, my mood dampened. For a few glorious minutes I just enjoyed being with Tris, nearly allowing myself to forget all about her boyfriend… a guy I'm supposed to be friends with. I keep falling deeper, when in reality, I know what I need to do.

I need to forget about my feelings for Tris.


	15. Chapter 15

**FOUR**

Zeke approaches the spot in front of the mall where we agreed to meet, so absorbed in his phone screen that he doesn't even look up to watch for cars before crossing the street. He stops next to me, still texting, and after a minute I start to get impatient. I didn't even want to go to a movie tonight, but Zeke knew I didn't have plans since I was _supposed_ to be going on that double-date with him. Between my obviously clear schedule and the guilt trip he was giving me about ruining his date with Maria, I gave in pretty quickly.

"What time does the movie start?" I ask. Zeke continues texting, still so distracted by his phone that I don't think he even noticed me talking to him. "Zeke!" I say sharply.

"Huh?" He looks up blankly. "Just a sec." Then back at his phone. I stop in front of the mall doors. Zeke finally sends his text, turns off his phone and slides it into his pocket. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

I roll my eyes. "How long till the movie starts?"

"Oh, we have an hour." We step into the mall and I follow alongside him as he walks purposefully toward an escalator.

"Then why are we here already?"

Zeke shrugs. "Just for something to do." Ugh. Hanging out at the mall has never been appealing to me.

Zeke leads the way to the food court and goes directly to a counter that sells pizza. I ate some leftover soup before I left my apartment to meet up with Zeke, so I won't waste my little bit of pocket money. I follow alongside Zeke and try to wait patiently. He finally seems to have stopped complaining about that stupid date being canceled. Better not to give him any reason to start up again.

On our way to a table with Zeke's pizza, a pair of girls looks us up and down as they pass. The little dark-haired one whispers her friend; the other girl, taller than her friend and wearing perfect makeup and a low-cut top, doesn't break eye contact as she smirks at us. Zeke blatantly checks them out, and winks at the tall blonde one that was trying to reel me in a moment ago. I am a bit confused when Zeke doesn't stop to ask for her number. "I thought you'd want to try and salvage your chances at a hook-up tonight, after how much you harped on me for messing up your date with Maria."

Zeke shrugs and scans the food court seating area, giving no answer. From what I've gathered in my short time at this school, Zeke has a bit of a reputation as a player. But I drop it since I don't want to talk him into chasing after them and pulling me into a situation like the inevitably awkward double-date we were supposed to be on tonight. I escaped it, so I'll just leave well enough alone.

Suddenly Zeke spots someone across the food court and jumps up to wave them over. I follow his line of sight to see Shauna and Marlene heading toward us. Shauna walks purposefully toward us with Marlene sort of trailing behind, looking almost as confused as I feel. It hits me that Zeke was watching for them, waiting for them. I remember how he was glued to his phone, texting like a madman.

This was planned. But why wouldn't he just tell me we were meeting up with Shauna and Marlene? They're our friends, it isn't like I would have refused to go or something.

"Well, this is unexpected," Shauna says. Had I not realized something was up, I might have missed the way she sounds… rehearsed. Marlene narrows her eyes at Shauna.

"Yeah, it is— nice running into you two, though," Zeke answers, smirking. "Four and I are seeing American Assassin in a while. You ladies want to join us?"

"Actually—" Marlene starts, just as Shauna cuts her off saying, "Sure!" Marlene sighs, making eye contact with me and smiling sarcastically. I snicker and smirk back at her.

Shauna sits down in the empty chair next to Zeke and Marlene takes the other, next to me. The four of us talk about nothing for a few minutes and I notice how Shauna playfully touches Zeke, smacking his arm when he makes a cheesy joke or finding some excuse to playfully ruffle his hair. Marlene looks at me with amusement.

I notice Zeke messing with his phone again, then hear the chime of a text notification. Shauna pulls out her phone and reads the message. "Oh, shoot," she says with a little too much emphasis. She looks up at us. "Lynn is having car trouble and needs some help, and she was supposed to be our ride home. Zeke, can you…?"

"Sure, of course!" he hops up. Marlene starts to get up, too, but Shauna waves her away. "No reason for you to be stuck rescuing Lynn, Mar; you can stay here and hang out with Four. You'll give her a ride home later, won't you, Four?" Her voice is sugary-sweet.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," I say flatly.

"Thanks!" Shauna calls as she and Zeke practically sprint away, like thy just can't ditch us fast enough.

Marlene and I stare at each other awkwardly for a moment. Marlene clears her throat. "Well that was… weird…" she says.

"Yeah." I shake my head. "They obviously planned that but what I don't understand... is _why_."

Marlene sighs and props her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm. "Well, I'm sure Shauna is enjoying getting Zeke alone, but I think the goal had more to do with _us_."

"You mean…" I trail off. "Oh." They set us up. This is meant to be a date. "Well, uh… do you want to hang out? Or would you rather I just take you home now?"

"We can hang out… I mean… if you want…" Marlene stammers. Then she giggles. "How disappointed would they be if you _did_ just bring me straight home right now?"

"Very, I'm guessing," I laugh. "All their scheming for nothing." I remember something she said a moment ago. "Oh, you said something about Shauna getting Zeke alone. What was that about?"

Marlene laughs. "You're such a guy. How have you not noticed yet? She's had a crush on Zeke for, like, years. He's totally oblivious. Which is probably for the best, because chances are he'd only break her heart. That would end up being awkward for everyone."

We decide to walk around the mall; neither of us really feel like seeing a movie. I pay for both of us when we stop for ice cream even though Marlene tells me several times that it's not necessary, I know that our friends meant for this to be a date so I can't bring myself to treat her otherwise. We sit on a bench, me eating my chocolate ice cream cone and Marlene eating strawberry ice cream from a paper cup. Marlene and I may be friends with the same people and talk to each other in class, but by setting us up on this little date, Shauna and Zeke have only made the atmosphere between us painfully awkward. Mar is pretty and nice, and we've always gotten along well enough so far, but this is all just reminding me of how much I like Tris. No matter how hopeless that situation may be.

"Is it going to be this weird when I see you in class on Monday? Because that would really suck," Marlene suddenly blurts out. Her outburst eases the tension just a little bit, and I laugh.

"I hope not," I admit. She's right, it would really suck. Maybe it's best to be honest. "Look, uh, Marlene… you're a really nice girl and all but…"

"Oh thank God," she sighs. "You're not my type either, Four. And I— I like someone else." Then she adds, grumbling under her breath, "Not that I have a chance with him."

"Why wouldn't you have a chance?" I ask after swallowing the bite I just took of the waffle cone. "You're pretty, fun, popular… why not go for it?"

Marlene stares down into her cup of ice cream, poking at it with her pink plastic spoon. "He has a girlfriend," she sighs. "So I really don't have a chance with him. He's not the kind of guy that would cheat. I wouldn't want a cheater, anyway."

"Ah." We silently eat our ice cream for a moment. When I glance at Mar, she looks so discouraged, the words just spill out of my mouth: "I'm kind of in the same situation."

"You like a guy who has a girlfriend?" Marlene teases, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips.

"What?! No! I'm not―" I rush, and she bursts into laughter. I stare at her blankly, annoyed at her joke and a little embarrassed at my reaction. "Ha, ha. Very funny, Mar."

"Your face," she says through giggles, then does an impression of my stuttering. Her giggling finally calms, though I can still hear a hint of lingering amusement when she clarifies, "You like a girl who already has a boyfriend?"

I nod and relax against the bench back support. "Yep. It feels pretty hopeless, but I can't get her off of my mind."

"It sucks, doesn't it?" I nod. Marlene looks at me thoughtfully. "Well, if you ever need any advice about girls, I'm game. At least I won't have to worry that it's _me_ you're asking about."

"Thanks," I say. "I'd offer the same, but I've proved to be pretty useless when it comes to anything related to dating, so I'm not sure how much help I'd be."

"I'm sure you understand guys better than I do," she laughs, poking me my upper arm. She stands and throws away her empty paper cup as I pop the tip of my waffle cone in my mouth. "Come on, let's get out of here. Shopping with a guy would just be weird."

I smile at her and get up, and we head toward the exit of the mall. I didn't expect to feel comfortable talking with Marlene about my crush on her friend, even if she doesn't know who I like, but I feel a little lighter as I lead Marlene to my car.

* * *

 ** _This took a lot longer to get written than I meant for it to. I knew what I wanted to happen, but Four and Marlene on a date? Strange concept. Took me a while to wrap my head around it and picture it so I could write it!_**

 ** _I know what you're thinking... you're thinking, when is Fourtris going to happen?! Be patient... we're getting there..._**

 ** _Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and/or reviewed so far!_**


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

 _ **TRIS**_

Flour spills over the side of the measuring cup as dance along with the Oldies station, and I curse under my breath, then just shrug. I resist the impulse to dance this time when I refill the cup with flour and level it off with the back of a butter knife. My mom always liked to dance along with Oldies music in the kitchen, and it was one of my favorite parts of baking with her as a child. It makes me feel closer to her, and also miss her even more, all at once.

Uriah will be coming over to work on that history project this afternoon, and I am baking his favorite chocolate cake for us to eat as a snack. He is always dropping hints (or sometimes outright begging) that I should make it; it's one of Mom's recipes, and though I haven't quite perfected it, it's good and he doesn't complain about it not being as good as Mom's was. She used to make it for his birthday party each year. Hana always tried to pay her, but Mom refused to accept any money for her time and baking supplies. One time Hana tried to hide some cash someplace Mom would find it, but my mother instantly knew what it was from and sneaked the cash into Hana's purse the next time they went out to lunch. They traded that twenty dollar bill back and forth for weeks before Hana finally gave up on paying my mom for the cake.

Maybe the memories of my mother are a part of what keeps me from making Uriah's favorite dessert more often. I usually only bake this on special occasions, but today I decided to spoil him. My motives are selfish: I'm trying to get rid of that heavy weight in my stomach, that knot I associate with feelings of guilt.

I don't even understand why I feel this way. I didn't do anything wrong. Four and I are friends, just friends and nothing more. But no matter how many times I reminded myself of that fact yesterday, the knot never loosened.

I was fine at first. By the time we finished rebuilding the carburetor I could feel this dull buzz, a slightly unsettled feeling, but it was easy enough to ignore. And I did ignore it, all through our test drive after fixing the truck and even while we sat by the river. I had such a great day with him, so easy and free. But then sitting there by the river, I started to become very aware of his presence beside me, as if my senses were heightened. It got harder to ignore that nervous buzz that I had pushed aside earlier.

Then the phone rang. As soon as I saw Uriah's smiling face on the screen, that guilty knot dropped into my stomach like a brick. The whole rest of the evening, long after Four had gone home, I reminded myself again and again that I hadn't done anything wrong, but it never did any good. So here I am, baking my boyfriend a cake.

Just as I am putting the cake in the oven, my phone rings. From where it sits face up on the counter, I can see the name on the lit screen and my eyes widen. I quickly push the rack back into the oven with the pan of cake batter now resting on it and close the oven door. I toss the oven mitt onto the counter and quickly swipe my phone screen to answer the call.

"Hi, Dad!" I say cheerfully. I'm so excited to hear from him, he so rarely calls me.

"Beatrice," he says and my smile begins to fall. His voice is stern and chiding. "I have an e-mail here from your math teacher," he continues. My heart begins to pound. "It says that you are failing your math class. _Failing_ , Beatrice." I gulp. "Thank God your mother isn't here to see this. What a disappointment."

"I… um…" I stutter. I stare down at my mother's handwriting on the recipe card, but my eyelashes are now wet with tears and blur the script too much to make out the letters written there. "I know, Dad, I'm sorry. I'll do better, I promise."

"There's no excuse for this, Beatrice. None. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Dad." My voice sounds hoarse. "I, um, I'm supposed to meet with my guidance counselor next week, maybe she can help me get back on track. I'll bring my grade up, I promise."

"I expect at least a B-average in all classes at the end of the semester. I'll be making sure that report cards are mailed directly to my office in New York from now on. Am I clear, Beatrice?"

"Yes, Dad," I whisper.

"Good." He sighs heavily. "Now, what have you decided about Thanksgiving? I trust that Caleb told you about my offer."

"I wish you'd come home," I say quietly, "but um, I can spend it with the Pedrads. Caleb wants to go with his new girlfriend to her parents'."

"Fine. I've got to go. Make me proud, Beatrice."

"I will, Daddy." With a click, the line cuts off.

* * *

I ruined the cake.

It seems that in my excitement to answer the call from my dad, I never set the timer. I was upstairs trying to read _The Great Gatsby_ (and this time I mean, really, truly trying my best) when, at about page 42, the horrid, bittersweet scent of burnt chocolate wafted into my bedroom. My room is nowhere near the kitchen. Now the entire house reeks of burned chocolate cake, and it's freezing in here due every window being open in order to air out the house. It is awfully chilly outside for the first of October.

I go up to my room and pull on a warmer hoodie—one of Uriah's. I'm not really upset about the cake; it was a stupid idea, anyway. Sure, Uriah would have loved it had I not overcooked the thing, but what does a cake fix? Nothing. Subconsciously, maybe that's why I chose it as my attempt to rid myself of guilt. I didn't know what I wanted the other day when we made up from that fight. I still am not quite sure what I want, other than more time to figure it out.

I gather up my laptop, history book and school binder and head back downstairs to the kitchen. Just as my foot leaves the bottom step, I hear the kitchen side door close. I'm glad he's here because I am ready to work; after that phone call from my dad, I am determined to do well on this project. "Hey, babe," Uriah says, draping his leather jacket over the back of a chair, as I step into the kitchen.

"Hey." I peck his lips before setting down my school materials. "Good timing, I'm ready to get to work on this."

"Um, first, can you tell me what that smell is?" Uriah laughs, wrinkling his nose. I blush and tell him about the cake. "Noooo!" he screams out while dramatically dropping to his knees and outstretching his hands. "Not the cake! Why, God? Why?" I laugh at his antics and pull him up by the wrist.

"I know, it's very disappointing," I laugh. "Come on, we've got to get this paper done."

* * *

"Okay, so, in the last part of the paper," I say, my eyes scanning the assignment, "we need to explain how the Compromise of 1850 was a catalyst to the South's succession and the war that followed." We have been working for about an hour, gathering information about the topic and starting to outline the paper. I thought Uriah working with me would help keep me more focused on the assignment and be easier than when I try to do homework alone, but that hasn't been the case. He gets up and moves around every five or ten minutes, as if his legs have a mind of their own or something, and he has tried to get me to stop studying and go up to the bedroom more than once.

Uriah hops up again, this time going to the kitchen cupboards. "Tris! Let's make another cake. I can't stop thinking about the one that got burnt, you know, since I can smell it the whole time."

I wrinkle my nose. "How on earth does that smell make you want to eat cake?" Cake smell is great. Burnt cake smell, not so much. "And now is not the time, Uri. Come on, we need to get this project done.

He leans back against the counter and sighs as I turn my attention back to the computer screen. "It's not due till Friday after next," he reasons. "We have plenty of time. Come on, I'm hungry!"

"So grab a string cheese or something," I say flatly as I add a new bullet point to our essay outline.

"Nooo," he whines. "I don't want that, I want cake. Come on, Bea."

I look over at him ready to scold him for using that awful nickname, and my jaw drops. He is in the middle of taking a swig from a metal flask. I just stare at him as he screws the lid back on and tucks it in his pocket. Now I'm finally out of my seat: I stride across the kitchen him and snatch it out of his pocket, quickly unscrewing the cap to smell its contents. The smell of whiskey just about knocks me over.

"Seriously?!" I shout.

Uriah furrows his eyebrows, taking the flask out of my hand and taking yet another sip from it before he screws on the cap. "What?" he asks, looking genuinely confused. What the hell is wrong with him?!

"I thought you were going to 'work on the whole drinking thing'? And now you're drinking when we're in the middle of a school project! What the hell, Uri? And what happened to you being so concerned about my grades?"

"Why are you so concerned about your grade?" he shoots back. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but just a few days ago, didn't you make it very clear that you didn't care about your grades, and I wasn't allowed to, either?"

I scowl at him. "I just am, okay? Maybe I thought about what you said and changed my mind."

Uriah scoffs. "Not likely." He narrows his eyes. "You're not telling me something. Why are you hiding things from me, Tris?"

I glare at Uriah, but it doesn't phase him. "Fine," I mumble. "Tori called me into her office Friday, then my dad called today because he got an email from one of my teachers." I look him in the eye. "But it doesn't matter why I am trying to do better, the fact is that I am, and I thought you would help me stay on task." Suddenly it hits me what he just did. I shake my head. "And nice try, Uriah, but I haven't forgotten what we were actually discussing. _You_ said that you were going to stop drinking all the time!"

"You didn't have a problem with me drinking at the party the other night."

I roll my eyes. "That's different! It was a party! _This_ isn't a party, it's a Sunday afternoon study date, Uriah!"

Uriah huffs. "I never said I was going to quit drinking alcohol entirely, Beatrice," he says, his words dripping with irritation. "I'm taking, you know, like, baby steps. I'm not gonna get wasted, or drink because you've pissed me off—which you're quite good at, by the way. It's only a little bit, I'm not hurting anyone. I don't see why you're making such a big deal over this! You're such an uptight bitch sometimes!"

I stare at him. I can't believe he just called me an 'uptight bitch!' Were all his apologies a few days ago just to get me off his back?! Then I realize, Of course they were! He never meant any of it, not really. And suddenly I feel like my whole body is weighted down and I am just… so tired. So tired of this.

Uriah shakes his head and pulls out the flask again, and takes another sip—a much longer sip this time. "I thought you weren't going to drink to deal with your anger, Uri," I spit.

I shake my head, then look at him again, practically having a staring contest with him. "Why don't I make this easier on you? We're done. I'm done with this bullshit. So now you won't have to deal with the _uptight bitch_ anymore and maybe _that_ will make it easier for you to get control on this. Or not. Do what you want, Uriah. I'm done. D-O-N-E done."

Uriah stares at me with wide eyes and a stricken look on his face. "Tris, wait—Tris—no, I didn't—"

I don't stay to listen. I walk out of the room and head upstairs, already dialing Zeke to come pick up his asshole brother.

* * *

 ** _A/N: And there it is, you've been waiting for it. Do you think Tris will change her mind, or will she and Uriah stay apart this time? How will certain other characters react to this news? I hope you liked the chapter, and a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed previously!_**


	17. Chapter 17

_**FOUR**_

I dread walking into Chemistry class on Monday morning. Things shouldn't be weird with Marlene, but I'm still nervous that they might be, especially with Zeke there. He has probably spent the whole weekend thinking up all kinds of suggestive little jokes to tease us with.

I sit down in my usual seat and Zeke turns in his chair and wiggles his eyebrows at me. I roll my eyes. "Nice try, Zeke," I say, "but your little attempt to set me up with Marlene was a failure."

He raises an eyebrow. "Damn, really? Shauna was sure you two liked each other and just needed a little push to get together. Talked me into helping set you up. Fine by me, that means I get to keep my wingman, if he can stop scaring the girls away before we even make it to the date. You never did tell me what happened with Nicole."

"Just drop it, Zeke," I warn.

He rolls his eyes. "I'll get it out of you one of these days. We can't have a repeat of whatever idiot move you made at that party."

"We won't be having a repeat of any of it. It was a one time deal, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Zeke says, unfazed.

Marlene drops her purse and backpack under the desk in front of mine and sits down, then turns to face Zeke.

"Hey, Zeke, is Uriah alright?" Marlene asks. "We were supposed to text each other for this psychology project. He usually gets back to me right away, but it took him like an hour to text back and I couldn't even decipher it."

Zeke groans. "He was wasted," he says, shaking his head. "He's not even at school this morning. I told him to get his ass out of bed, but he wouldn't. He said he'll be here by lunch, but I don't know."

"Everything okay?" I ask. Uriah getting drunk isn't alarming in the least, but Zeke actually seems worried this time.

"It's a mess, man," he tells me. "Tris broke up with him." Marlene's eyes go wide, and I find myself holding my breath. _Tris is single now?!_ My pulse races and I almost feel lightheaded at the news. _Tris is single!_ It's all I can comprehend, a singular thought repeating itself in my mind. I force myself to focus on what Zeke is saying.

Zeke continues, "Honestly, I don't blame her. Fuck, this is gonna suck. She's one of my best friends. Hell, growing up Tris and Uri and me were like the Three fuckin' Musketeers. But Uriah's my brother, I have to take his side whether he deserves it or not. But I feel like I'm abandoning Tris."

"Why pick sides at all?" I ask. I get that he is feeling caught in the middle, but can't he just tell them both that he's there for them and stay out of the actual conflict?

Zeke chuckles and shakes his head. "Four, my man," he says seriously, "there _always_ comes a time where you have to pick a side."

* * *

Tris's face has been impassive throughout our classes together. I quietly eat my lunch and just observe everyone. About half the gang is their usual loud, lively selves while Zeke seems a little distracted, and Tris seems withdrawn, hardly saying a word the whole time, instead seeming to zone out and stare off into space. She looks tired, worn down. I'm not sure when Uriah arrived to school, but he's here now, his hair disheveled and his eyes bloodshot.

Several of us crowd around Lynn's phone to watch the video of the latest dare. A few days ago, I discreetly dared Lynn to draw a cat nose and whiskers on Shauna's face in permanent marker without waking her up, and video Shauna's reaction when she first saw it in the mirror. The video does not disappoint; Shauna, in all her bed-headed, makeup-less glory, screams at the top of her lungs and shouts obscenities before chasing after Lynn, at which point the video cuts off. Lynn took it a step further by waiting until early this morning to complete the prank, so Shauna is currently sitting against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest with a scowl twisting the thick, drawn-on black whiskers that decorate her cheeks. To her credit, when she was unable to cover it with makeup she just went with it and wore a costume kitty-ears headband to complete the look.

The dare probably would have been funnier if I had Shauna draw on Lynn's face instead, but to be honest… Lynn scares me a little. I wasn't so sure I wanted to get on her bad side.

We all settle back into our spots on the floor of the hallway. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, guys. I'm going to be stuck with this cat face all week!" She wags her finger at me. "You're on my shit list now, Four." I raise my hands as if surrendering.

"Okay, my turn," Lynn announces with an evil smirk. I get the feeling that whatever dare she is about to give, she's had in her back pocket for a while, just waiting for her chance to dole it out; she doesn't take any time deciding who to call on next, instead immediately making eye contact with her victim. "Uriah," she says. He curses under his breath, which surprises me; he seems like the type of person who would welcome a dare no matter how shitty his mood. "Break into Principal Matthews' house and rearrange her furniture. Then take something from her fridge and leave an unsigned thank you note for the food." My eyes widen, and I see everyone else has the same reaction, including Uriah. "Take before and after photos as proof. I'll give you… four days."

Uriah just nods. "Challenge accepted."

It's the walk to Spanish class when I first see what Zeke means. In the past I've walked with both Uriah and Tris, but today they are avoiding being too near one another. I try to avoid picking a side and don't walk with either of them.

Uriah falls into step beside me. "So, that dare…" Uriah says. I nod. "There's a school board meeting scheduled for Thursday night. Matthews will have to be there. It's the perfect time to do this. You in?"

"What, to help with the dare? You want me to break into her house with you?" If I get caught… I don't want to think about how Marcus will react. And I have to spend this weekend at his house.

Uriah nods eagerly. "C'mon, Four, don't be a pansycake."

I roll my eyes at Uriah's juvenile insult, but his goading me still does the trick. "Yeah, sure. I'll be there," I say, against my better judgment.

We enter the classroom and Uriah hurries over to a pair of empty seats, waving me to follow. I frown and glance back at Tris, who has come in seconds behind us. She goes to a cluster of empty seats on the other side of the room.

I stare at Tris for a second longer than I probably should, then look back to Uriah. In that moment I realize that Zeke is right; no matter how subtle it may be, there always does come a time that you have to pick a side.

I want to pick Tris, every fiber of my being is straining toward her.

Uriah looks at me expectantly, glances at Tris, then back at me, while I stand there frozen. "Come on, man. She's fine. _She_ was the one who broke up with _me_." I can see the pain in his eyes as he says this.

I realize, with a sinking feeling in my stomach, that it doesn't really matter that Tris is single now. She's still as off limits as ever: Uriah is my best friend's brother, my friend, and my teammate. Tris is my friend, too, but one thing I cannot afford to risk is for anyone to realize my feelings for her.

So I make a choice: I take the seat next to Uriah and try not to notice the blond beauty slouching with slumped shoulders in a seat across the room.


	18. Chapter 18

_**FOUR**_

Last time I came to Tris's house, we mostly stayed in the garage. But today I am here to work on our English paper, so I am in her kitchen waiting for a bag of microwave popcorn to cook. Her house has this sort of eerie quiet… this place should house a family and be full of laughter and warmth, because Tris deserves nothing less. Instead, it feels hollow and empty. I grew up in a house that felt hollow and empty like this. At least in this place, I don't feel the familiar staleness that constant fear brings to the air.

Tris comes back into the kitchen carrying the pizza that was just delivered. "Pepperoni and olives," she states. I nod and smile, it smells delicious. I watch Tris as she opens the fridge and stacks a few cans of soda on top of the pizza box. Then she crosses the room and begins pulling plates and glasses out of a cupboard. She has to stretch to reach them and my eyes are drawn to the strip of bare skin at her waist when her shirt rides up. "Sounds like the popcorn's done," she prompts me without turning around. I jump, mumbling something as I rush back to the microwave; I hope she didn't realize that _she_ was what distracted me from my task.

I've been trying to keep my distance from Tris these past couple of days, but it is harder than I imagined it would be. I am drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Once I have poured the popcorn into a bowl, I gather up the cans of soda in one arm and the bowl of popcorn in the other, and Tris carries the plates, napkins and pizza. I follow her through the entry and down the stairs to the basement. The room is simpler than Zeke and Uriah's, with a medium-sized TV, a worn but comfortable-looking couch, and a simple wooden coffee table. There are some big pillows tossed in a corner that are probably used when the gang comes over. We set all the food on the coffee table and I help myself to some pizza and a can of Sprite while Tris searches Amazon Instant Video for the movie.

The silence between carries a tension that hasn't been there in the past. I clear my throat. "So… you and Uriah…" I trail off.

"Yeah," she says. "It just wasn't working any more. We kept having the same fights again and again, and never really working anything out."

"I'm sorry I didn't sit with you in Spanish the last few days," I blurt out.

"It's okay, I get it," she says. "It's a guy code thing or whatever." She picks at a loose thread on the couch cushion next to her.

"Something like that," I mutter. Both yesterday and today, seeing her sitting alone, across the room from us, guilt gnawed at my stomach the whole time. Even Zeke admitted that he's only sticking by Uriah because Uri is his brother. In the short time I've known them both, Tris has done more to earn my trust and loyalty than Uriah ever has. I've only been sitting with him because I need to conceal my feelings for Tris.

"It's just… I've never been that close with the girls," she tells me. "It was always the Pedrad twins and me. I just feel so… so disconnected from everyone right now." More guilt, like a knife to the gut. She must notice it on my face because she hurries to reassure me. "Four, it's not your fault…don't start sitting with me out of pity or something now, I couldn't stand that."

"I don't pity you, Tris," I say, my words rushing from my mouth. "And if you ever need to talk about anything…I'm not so good at advice, but I can listen."

Tris offers me a weak smile. "Thanks, I'll keep it in mind," she says. "Let's just watch the movie."

As the opening credits begin, I realize something. "Tris…you did read the book, right?"

Tris laughs. "Of course I did. I couldn't leave all the work to you; what kind of friend would I be?" I smile, relax back into the couch and start eating my second slice of pizza. While it was a little awkward asking her about her break-up, I feel like the tension has dissipated from the room since I did.

But soon I begin to feel a different sort of tension building. It starts when we both reach for popcorn at the same time, and our fingers brush together. My fingers tingle with electricity at her touch and she pulls her hand away and blushes. I wish she hadn't. I want to feel that again.

Eventually Tris sets her plate and soda on the coffee table and curls her legs under her, getting more comfortable on the couch. She's just inches away from me now with this change in position and all my senses are heightened at her being so close. I can smell a hint of something flowery from her shampoo, hear her gentle breathing. I sit on my hands to be sure that my arm won't take on a mind of its own and wrap itself around her shoulders.

By the time Myrtle Wilson is struck and killed by Gatsby's yellow car, Tris is yawning frequently. She slouches further into the couch and then it happens. Those few inches between us are gone, and she is leaning into me, her head on my shoulder. I wish she was on my right instead of my left, because as she's positioned now I'm afraid she might be able to feel how quickly my heart is pounding. If it weren't for the complications of her newly-ended relationship, this would be heaven. And it still is… but I have no idea what to do. Am I breaking the guy-code if I put my arm around her, or am I just making her more comfortable.

I debate for a minute before deciding that I don't care. I may never get the chance again, so I'm going to take it. I carefully and gently settle my arm around her shoulders, and she doesn't say anything. She just keeps her eyes fixed on Robert Redford and the old, grainy picture.

It feels amazing to have her resting her head against my shoulder, her side pressed up to mine, my arm around her. At the same time this is so much worse; I keep glancing at her, I can't help it. And every time I do my gaze settles on her lips. It takes every bit of self-control I have not to lean in and kiss her.

I hope Tris was paying close attention to the last bit of this movie, because when the credits roll I realize that all I could think about for the last half-hour was _her_. Tris seems unfazed by the whole situation as she gets up and stretches her arms above her head, arching her back. The position showcases her chest and I have to look away and take a deep breath. _Keep it together, Tobias,_ I tell myself.

"You didn't fall asleep, did you?" Tris teases, smiling at me, done stretching now _thank God_. I shake my head and smile back at her. "Good. Wanna help me bring these dishes up? My backpack and laptop are up in my room."

 _Right. The English paper._

After an hour outlining our paper—which Tris looks to me to take the lead on, but is helpful once we get going on it—Tris emails the document to me and closes her laptop. "Well," Tris smiles, "thanks, Four. I usually hate homework but that wasn't too bad."

"Same to you," I say.

We stare at each other for a moment, then Tris jumps up. "I'll walk you to the door," she says quietly. I nod and scratch the back of my neck, then grab my bag and follow her downstairs.

We stand in the entry, by the front door. "Well, guess I'll see you tomorrow," Tris says. Then she steps forward and wraps her arms around me. I freeze for a moment, shocked that she has initiated contact again, but soon my brain catches up and I wrap my arms around her, too, and revel in the warm feeling that spreads through me from the inside out.

After a couple seconds, Tris lets go and steps away, and I reluctantly drop my hands. Tris opens the front door and smiles, but doesn't meet my eyes. "Good night, Tris," I say as I step onto the front porch.

"Good night, Four," she replies before slowly closing the door.

I get in my car and at first I can't wipe the smile off my face, then I lean my head against the steering wheel and groan when I think of Uriah and Zeke.

Staying away from Tris, ignoring my feelings for her, only seems to get more and more complicated.


	19. Chapter 19

_**A/N: Ready for another dare? Think they'll get caught in Ms. Matthews' house? Read to find out!**_

* * *

 _ **FOUR**_

* * *

On Thursday night, I meet Uriah at a park in an unfamiliar neighborhood just as the sun has begun to set. He said he and Zeke would meet me at the playground, but I don't see him when I glance around at the surrounding benches.

"Hey man," Uriah calls out. I turn toward his voice just in time to see him bail out of the swing, landing with a thud and running a few steps to regain his balance. He claps his hands and rubs them together. "Ready to do this?" he asks with a mischievous smirk.

"I guess," I say, glancing around. "But where's Zeke?"

Uriah shakes his head. "He's at home icing his shoulder." I grimace. I didn't realize he was hurt bad enough to bail on a dare tonight; Peter took another cheap shot at me in practice, and again, it was one of the Pedrads who took the hit while blocking me. I kind of wish they'd stop doing that—if there's one thing I know, it's how to endure pain. I would have been fine. At least this time Coach Amar saw the dirty play, so Peter will be sitting out tomorrow's game. "We'll get Peter back, though," Uriah adds.

I raise my eyebrows. "Oh? What do you have planned?"

"You'll see," Uriah smirks. "I already hated that pansycake for what he did to Tris, but now after what he's done in the last couple weeks to you, me and Zeke, we've gotta strike back."

"What did he do to Tris?" I ask. My blood pressure is rising at the possibilities that are running through my mind.

"I'll tell you later," Uriah says as he starts walking. "We've gotta get this dare done before Matthews finishes that school board meeting. Come on, her house is a block away."

Principal Matthews lives in a modern-looking house, all sharp angles and windows. You cant see inside though; from the outside, the windows look like mirrors. It seems a little odd to me, but will work to our advantage for today's task.

"Come on," Uriah whisper-yells as he reaches over the gate at the side of the house, trying to open the latch. He fiddles with it for a moment, screwing his face up in concentration and frustration, then huffs. "I can't get it open," he whines.

I roll my eyes. "Let me try. You watch and make sure no one sees us."

I thought Uriah was just being an idiot, but it turns out I can't get it open either. "We'll just have to climb it," I tell him before I grab the top of the six foot wooden privacy fence and pull myself up and over. My shirt catches on my way down and I examine the small rip as Uriah follows me over. I sigh; I'll have to throw this shirt out.

"Okay," Uriah says, "now we just need to find a way in." He starts making his way around the side of the house and I follow, shaking my head. So far, helping Uriah with a dare is very different from helping Tris. Tris had a strategy in place for everything, while Uriah seems to just fly by the seat of his pants.

We waste nearly ten minutes looking for a way in before I finally find a spare key taped to the top of a porch light. Uriah high fives me before he unlocks the back door and I follow him in. We get right to work; I take the "before" photos of the living room and office, while Uriah does the same in the dining room, kitchen and sitting room. Lynn never said that he had to enter the bedrooms, so we'll leave those alone. I think it's weird enough seeing where the principal lives without checking out something as intimate as her bedroom. What if she had like sex toys or something in there? I shudder at the thought.

When we have finished taking our "before" photos, we get to work moving the furniture. Ms. Matthews seems to have expensive taste; nearly everything is glass or leather, the whole house is decorated in blue and white, and there are expensive glass vases and statues and things all over the place. It makes me really nervous that Uriah is involved in this, because he has never struck me as the careful type. Just as I think this, he knocks over a vase. I dive for it and sigh in relief when it lands in my hands moments before it would have hit the tile floor.

"Damn it, Uriah," I mutter. "Be more careful! We don't want to give her any reason to actually call the cops about this."

"Sorry, man," he chirps. "Good catch, though. Oh hey, you know what we should do? Let's put the dining room furniture in here, and move the living room furniture in the dining room, and—"

I shake my head. "The longer we're here, the more likely we get caught. Just move things around the rooms so we can get out of here."

"I should have asked Mar," he grumbles as we push the glass coffee table over by the floor-to-ceiling windows. "She would have been way more fun." I'm starting to think the only reason he's never been caught doing a dare is because Tris was always helping him.

"Did you know your brother tried to set me up with her?" I say, grabbing one end of the sofa to push it so it faces away from the fireplace.

Uriah's head snaps up and he drops the end of the couch that he had just lifted. "What?!" he exclaims. "Zeke set you up with Mar?!"

"Uh, yeah," I say, gesturing to him that he should pick the couch up again. He shakes his head like he's trying to clear it, and complies, and we continue moving the furniture into new and interesting arrangements. "Apparently it was Shauna's idea. Somehow she got it in her head that Marlene and I liked each other, which we don't. The whole thing was awkward and weird."

"Uh, yeah," Uriah says looking distracted. "Yeah, weird. So, nothing going on with you two, then?"

"No," I laugh. "I don't know why your brother is so determined to set me up with someone."

Uriah laughs. "Right? Not like he's ever had a relationship."

"Never?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. I nod at our handiwork in the living room and we move on to the office.

"Not really," Uriah says as he follows me down the hall. "I mean… middle school, but that's just, you know, 'going out' to say that you're with someone, not like you really _go_ anywhere or _do_ anything together." He pauses to look at the photographs on the walls. "I guess maybe Matthews is like Zeke," he chuckles. "Not a single romantic-looking photo anywhere."

I pause, too, and see that he's right. I also notice that even her picture frames look sleek and expensive.

It takes us forty-five minutes to finish rearranging Principal Matthews's furniture and finally move on to the kitchen. Uriah opens the fridge and lets out a whoop, I turn to see him pumping his fist in the air. "She's got cake! Score!" he calls out as he puts the large slice of rich chocolate cake on the counter and digs through the drawers until he finds the silverware. Then he comes back to the cake and starts digging in.

"Um, where's my fork?" I ask.

Uriah pauses mid-bite, then covers the cake with his body and arms. "Get your own cake!" he says.

"Hey, I'm risking getting into trouble to help you here," I protest, walking to the silverware drawer and grabbing another fork. "It wasn't even my dare."

"Fine," Uriah grumbles and begrudgingly backs off so I can have some too. When we have finished the whole big, decadent slice of cake, Uriah has fudge icing smeared on his cheek. I don't mention it to him, instead I just go to the sink and wash my fork, then dry it and put it back in the drawer. Uriah licks the plate and his fork clean before leaving them in the sink.

I jot down a quick note in perfect block lettering, careful that it is not recognizable as my own, like my usual sloppy scrawl would be. _Thank you for the delicious cake. I have improved the layout of your home as a show of gratitude._ I put it in the fridge in place of the cake, unsigned.

"Now for our revenge on Peter," Uriah says with an evil grin. He digs into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled yellow slip of paper.

"What's that?" I ask.

"A detention slip with Peter's name on it," Uriah grins. "He was so pissed off when he got it yesterday, he crumpled it up and threw it in the trash. I saw an opportunity and fished it out before I went to my next class." Uriah looks around and carefully places it under a dining room chair, so that it looks as if it were dropped by accident—believable that it may have been dropped by accident, but easy enough to spot when Ms. Matthews rearranges her furniture back to its usual positions later.

I shake my head and laugh, and we make sure we have enough "after" pictures in our phones and that we haven't left anything behind. Then we head out the back door and put the key back in its place on the porch light.

Uriah checks his watch. "Shit, we'd better get out of here," he whispers as we fumble with the gate, finally figuring out how to open it. "If that meeting gets out early, she could be home any minute."

It's dark now, and we stay in the shadows as much as possible as we slink back to the park. "So, speaking of Peter," I say, "what was it that he did to Tris?" I know what he did to me with the fake weed, and to Uriah and Zeke by injuring them at practice, but he still hasn't told me about Tris and she is the one I really want to hear about. But I'm careful to sound as if I don't really care.

"Oh," Uriah says as we arrive at our cars in the parking lot at the far side of the park. "They went out back in freshman year. He pressured her to, you know, do more than she was ready for at the time," Uriah explains. My jaw tightens. "Then when she finally gave in, he dumped her the next week. And _then_ it came out that he had been cheating on her the whole time, anyway. He's a dick." Even through my own anger at hearing how Peter used Tris, I can see that it makes Uriah angry even now to think about it. It's obvious that he cares about her, even if he's hurt and angry about the break up.

"Well, then, he deserves whatever comes to him from that detention slip you left," I tell him.

Uriah grins and nods, then glances around. "Well, we should get out of here before someone sees us," he says, opening the door to his Jeep.

I nod. "Good call. Thanks for inviting me, that was actually kind of fun."

"Anytime, man! Thanks for helping me out! See you tomorrow." Then we both get in our cars and drive off. And all the way home I grin about the shit storm that should soon be coming Peter's way.


	20. Chapter 20

_**TRIS**_

* * *

I grin as I flip through the photos of Ms. Matthews' new furniture arrangement. Uriah and Four put everything in absolutely the most awkward settings possible. I wonder if the principal will even manage to get into her home office to put things back without knocking over the glass vases and statues arranged every couple feet all over the floor; it won't be easy for her to get to and move them with the desk pulled up to completely block the door. I am still laughing at the final photo―the thank you note left in place of the slice of cake―when I pass Four's phone to Marlene so she can have a turn taking a closer look.

I just sit here leaning against the wall, slowly peeling the small orange I brought in my lunch. I look around at my friends and just watch them―everyone is smiling and laughing as Uriah tells some story about Peter. I watch him without listening, smiling just a little when the dimple shows up on his right cheek. That dimple only shows when he's smiling really wide. Usually I see it often, but I haven't in the last few days.

I think Uriah gives Shauna a dare, I'm not really listening. I haven't spoken to anyone by the time lunch ends and I silently walk to Spanish class, dragging my feet. I see Uriah walking a few yards ahead of me, his phone in his hands.

Four falls into step beside me and nudges me with his elbow. "You okay, Tris?" he asks.

I shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine," I answer. It's a lie.

I just feel so far away... disjointed. It's like I don't fit anymore, don't know where I belong. I've always belonged with Uriah and Zeke. But Uriah has barely looked at me all week, and Zeke has been awkward; I almost think he's avoiding me.

I've lost my mother, then may as well have lost my dad and Caleb. Now I've lost my best friends, too. This is what I was afraid would happen if Uriah and I broke up. Maybe I ended things with him too quickly. Maybe I could give him another chance, maybe I don't have to lose him. He and Zeke are more family to me now than my own blood, and losing them hurts. The truth is, I miss them. I miss _him._

I walk into the classroom with Four. Uriah is already sitting at a desk near the back of the room, smiling as he texts someone on his phone. My heart sinks, I can't help wondering who he is texting. He seems happy.

I sit down in an empty seat on the opposite side of the room and Four sits next to me. I raise my eyebrows. "I've sat with Uriah all week," he tells me. "You're my friend too, you know."

I smile. "I know," I say. "I still thought you'd sit with Uri." He just shrugs. "So…game tonight," I say, making small talk. "Nervous?" It's an away game. Uriah always gets more nervous before away games, I think hearing all the cheering when our games are on the home field pumps him up so he plays better.

Four laughs. "No. It's Amity, I've played them before. We'll win, no problem."

"What school did you play for before?"I ask, realizing he's never told me about his old school.

"Erudite High," he answers. "I like it better here. Better football team, too."

"We have a game there in a few weeks, don't we?" I ask. He nods. I am about to ask how he feels about playing against his old team, but before I get the chance, Senor Delgado comes in and starts class.

I glance across the room to Uriah. He's still on his phone, still texting someone with a small smile. The only difference is that now he's hiding his phone under his desk.

I look back at Four and he glances back at me and shoots me a smile.

Even though we were talking about nothing really, I didn't feel so lonely anymore once I was talking to Four. Maybe those doubts about my break-up with Uriah were just a moment of weakness. Maybe we are better off apart.

* * *

I felt better and less lonely and disconnected during school this afternoon, but the feeling has not carried over to the post-game party at the Pedrads' celebrating the win against Amity High.

I was disappointed when Four told me before the game that he couldn't come to the party. He said this is his weekend at his dad's and he has to go straight there after the game. Sometimes it feels like he is the only one who really _sees_ me, the only one who sees that I am struggling. It comforts me and makes me nervous all at once―that someone is still paying enough attention to notice when I'm down is a comfort, but sometimes I wish I could hide my emotions better. Although maybe I still do hide them well enough, since my other friends don't seem to notice.

I wonder how Four's weekend at his dad's will go. He only told me a little about his parents when we were working on my truck last weekend, but I didn't miss the bitterness in his voice when he talked about his father. I feel a little selfish for thinking it, but despite his poor relationship with his dad, I'm a little jealous. At least his dad wants Four to be with him one weekend a month. I would consider myself lucky to I see my dad even half that often.

I stand off to the side with a can of coke. I usually drink at these post-game parties, but tonight is different. In the past I never had to worry about getting home safely because I would just stay here with Uriah. I don't even feel like being here, I just feel… lost in the crowd. I'm not sure that anyone would even notice if I just went home right now.

A hand rests on my shoulder and I look up to see tall, broad-shouldered guy with shaggy black hair. I recognize him― he is on the football team, second string I think, but I don't remember his name, if I ever learned it in the first place.

"Lookin' good tonight, Tris," he slurs. He grabs my hand and begins pulling me toward the crowded dance floor. "Come on, dance with me."

I yank my hand back. "I'm sorry…" I look at him blankly.

"Matt."

"Right. Matt." I take another step back. "Sorry, Matt, but I'll pass."

"C'mon, Tris. Heard you're single now. Just one dance." He grabs me again, my wrist this time.

I relax my wrist then rotate it toward his thumb. As soon as I feel that I've caused his grip to loosen I quickly pull my wrist back, a self-defense move that Zeke taught me. "I said no," I snap. "Leave me alone." With that, I quickly scurry along the perimeter of the room, glancing back once only to make sure Matt isn't following me.

Someone else grabs my hand, and I almost repeat the same move on instinct but then I realize that this hand is smaller and not holding on tight. "Tris!" Shauna says. I gently pull my hand back. "I've been looking for you! I'm going to do that dare, you wanna come?"

I can smell a hint of beer on her breath. She's probably only had one, but I haven't had any. "Yeah, sure, Shauna. I'm driving." She nods eagerly and grabs Lynn's hand on the way out, pulling us both out the door.

* * *

After a stop at the grocery store for dish soap, which we successfully dumped into Buckingham Fountain, I drive Shauna and Lynn back to the party. The front yard is littered with red plastic cups, patches of vomit, and a few passed out, drunk teens, and the music is still so loud that I could hear it through my closed car windows over a block down the street. "Thanks, Tris!" Shauna calls as she hops out and runs back into the house.

I nod even though she isn't looking and don't turn off the truck. Lynn was moving to follow Shauna but pauses. "You aren't coming?" she asks. I shake my head. I don't want to go back in there. There's nothing more lonely than feeling alone when surrounded by people, and I don't want to deal with any more assholes like that Matt guy. I'm better off at home studying; I didn't end up meeting with Tori this week, but I'm sure I won't escape her next week, and I want to be able to honestly say that I'm making an effort.

"Look, Tris," Lynn says. She looks uncomfortable. "I'm not good at like… feelings and shit." I chuckle, at least she's aware of it. "But you know we're all here for you, right? Uriah's a jackass, you deserved better anyway."

I can't help laughing a little and smiling at her. "Thanks, Lynn," I say. I still don't want to be at a party right now, but it does help to know someone still cares, still notices.

"So, you sure you're not coming?"

"I'm sure. Thanks, Lynn. And make sure everyone stays safe, would you?"

"Yeah, no problem. Night, Tris."


	21. Chapter 21

_**A/N: I had a hard time figuring out how to write this one and a friend helped me with it. Thanks, T!**_

* * *

 **FOUR**

* * *

I am standing in the school parking lot, Zeke waiting with me. He should be at home preparing for the victory party after our away win against Amity High tonight. Instead, he is here with me. I haven't mentioned much about my home life to anyone, not wanting them to associate me with Marcus. But Zeke being Zeke, he must have felt my apprehension, seen how the closer we got to home, the more tense I became.

I told him to go, that I would be fine waiting in the parking lot, but he wouldn't have it. He used the excuse that he didn't want me left alone with Peter and his goons always lurking around. I can't say I'm not happy that he is with me.

"Your father doesn't own a watch, does he?" Zeke asks with a chuckle.

"Just his way of showing who is boss," I respond.

They're the only words we have spoken in the last thirty minutes. Zeke knows I'm not much of a talker, except when I'm around _her_. Why? I don't know, but even now I can't stop thinking about her. I see headlights coming towards us and I know it is him.

"Are you sure you don't want to blow your dad off and come to the party?" Zeke asks.

"I can't, Zeke. If I don't cooperate with their agreement, he might drag my mom into court about it," is all I say.

The car rolls to a stop in front of us and Marcus rolls his window down. "Get in the car," he sneers at me.

"Later, dude," Zeke says and gives me a fist bump.

"Enjoy your weekend," I reply.

"You know it," Zeke laughs and starts to get into his car.

I had to leave my car at home today. Marcus wanted to make a show of picking me up after the game. Some show, he turned up thirty minutes late. Maybe Zeke is right, I could always get him a watch for his next birthday.

I go to get into the car but notice there is a woman in the front seat. As much as I don't want to know who this person is, it does mean that I have less chance of him turning on me if she is here.

I throw my bag into the back seat and follow it into the car. I am careful not to speak first as I buckle my seatbelt.

"You won, I presume?" he asks.

"Yes sir."

"I hope there weren't any fumbles like last time."

"No sir, I played well."

"You can't just play _well_ , Tobias, you need to be the _best_. Don't think I'm going to be handing out money for your college education. You need that scholarship."

"Yes, sir."

The ride to his house is filled with Marcus and his lady friend talking; Brenda is her name, I think that's what he said. It seems she will be spending the night. I let out a sigh, hoping this means he will be occupied with her for the rest of the evening.

Just the thought of having to enter his house again makes me feel sick. I hate him and everything he stands for. I wouldn't be here if not for the threat of a custody battle. I will endure one weekend a month with him to avoid the possibility that a judge might order me to spend half my time with my father ― or worse, grant him full custody. Marcus has connections in high places.

I hear the car hit the gravel of the long driveway up to the house. I can feel my shoulders tensing and my hands balling into fists. I let my nails dig into my palm, hoping it will calm me in some way. I try to think of my friends, all probably three parts drunk by now. Then I think of Tris. I hope she is okay. Watching her struggle since the break up has been hard. I can't help noticing that she has been feeling uncomfortable lately, trying to find her place within the group again. I just want to wrap my arms around her and tell her everything is going to be okay.

"Are you getting out of the car?" Marcus asks, taking me from my daydream.

"Sorry, sir," I reply.

I get out of the car and finally get a chance to look at Brenda. I'm not sure, but she looks like she could be a hooker, but one of those high end ones. Not one that you hear some of the guys talking about in the locker room. Brenda isn't the type you would find on the street corner, bending into the car to offer you a blow job for a few bucks. I only know this because Zeke and Uriah dragged me downtown as a joke. They like to occasionally go down there and tease the poor girls.

I walk behind Marcus and his date, wanting to take as long as possible before I have to move inside that house. He opens the door and we walk into the entrance, met by his butler.

"Dinner is ready, sir," Jameson tells Marcus.

"Thank you," Marcus replies. He points out things about the house to Brenda as we walk to the dining room. As Marcus is telling her some story about the age of the stairs all I can think of is the time he kicked me as I was walking up the stairs, making me fall and break my leg. Lucky for me, football season had just ended, as it was six weeks in a cast and then another four of physical therapy to get my fitness back to its peak.

"Here we are, my dear," Marcus says as he pulls her chair out for her. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. He said the same words to my mother the night she came back to him. It was only a week later that he was hitting her with the same chair after he had knocked her to the ground. He wasn't happy with the shade of lipstick she had been wearing. Had told her she looked like a whore with it on. The irony is not lost on me.

Dinner is served by his housekeeper, Mary. She gives me a big smile as she puts the food in front of me. Mary doesn't have a clue what has happened in this house. She has worked for my father for years and he has always had her fooled. Mary has always looked up to my father, he helped her family out with some debt they had back before I was born. She came to work for him and is the only employee that has stayed on longer than a year or two.

"Thank you, Mary. We won't be needing you for the rest of the weekend," Marcus tells her.

This can mean one of two things: I will be doing the cooking for him, or Brenda will be. Better make sure I am up early to prepare breakfast. I don't want to see Brenda beaten in front of me, and that has happened before. When Mom took off, Marcus would have different women around the house. One that I can't remember the name of actually burned the toast. I don't really know how you would do that but this woman did. She lost a tooth; he had hit her so hard, it was knocked clear across the kitchen. As much as Marcus likes to inflict pain upon me, he equally likes for me to watch as he inflicts pain on others.

"Thank you, sir," Mary replies. She then turns to me. "It's good to see you, Master Tobias. I hope you have a good weekend."

"Thank you, Mary," I reply.

"That was one of those Pedrad boys," Marcus says as we eat dinner.

"Sir?"

"You were standing with one of the Pedrads. I don't know which one he was, they all look the same to me."

"Yes sir. It was Zeke." How does he even remember their last name? He must have been doing his homework on my teammates.

"You need to be wary of who you are seen with now, Tobias. There will be scouts starting to come to your games. You need to be smart."

"Yes sir."

"You are dismissed. Your room has been made up for you. I will see you at breakfast."

"Yes sir."

* * *

I walk up the winding staircase to my room. I hate this house, not as much as the last house Marcus owned, but almost. If these walls could talk, they would tell you of belts hitting bare skin. Of fists smashing into my mother's face. Of the words that would keep both my mom and I downtrodden for so long. I never thought I would step foot in this house again. Maybe it was just a wish. _Of course_ Marcus would find a way to make me come back here.

I only have eleven months until I am eighteen, and there isn't a judge in the world who will be able to make me walk these halls again. This house is huge, lucky for me, I won't be able to hear whatever Marcus has planned for his guest tonight. I don't want to know. I just hope he doesn't hurt her. Usually it isn't until a second or third visit before he hurts them. The way he was talking to her earlier, I don't think she has been here before, so she should be safe...for now.

I hate myself for thinking this way, knowing that I have no hope of being able to stop him from doing whatever he chooses to do with her. I know I could never walk in and try and stop it. I'm not brave enough.

My room is exactly how I left it: cold and impersonal. No posters on the walls, no books on the bookshelf. Nothing that would make you think that I had ever lived here. Marcus wouldn't allow any of it, nothing out of place. I walk into the walk-in closet, still filled with my clothes. I see my favourite shirt hanging and remember how we had to leave the house with nothing. Marcus was away on a business trip when we fled. We had the clothes on our backs and that was it.

I don't think I have ever seen my mom as scared as when we were escaping, frightened some one would stop us. Who? I don't know, but she knew enough of Marcus's dealings to be able to make sure that we didn't have to stay, that he only put up enough of a fight to have me stay once a month. I'm sure it would have been more if he didn't think Evelyn knew things that could get him in serious trouble.

I quickly take a shower; locker room showers, especially at away games, just don't seem to cut it. I never feel like I am completely clean. I wonder if they are built that way because they are for the opposing team. Our showers at school are great, I wonder if the opposing teams think the same thing when they are at our home games.

I get into bed but I can't sleep. I lie here as still as possible, tense. I know Marcus is occupied, but at any time he could lose his temper and throw Brenda out. That would only leave him with me in the house to take his anger out on.

I think back to class today. How Tris looked, her hair out and freshly washed. I sound like a creeper but she must have switched to a new shampoo and it's like it has been the only thing I can smell all day. It's like a sun shower on a hot and humid day, the one that takes the heat away and leaves you feeling alive and wanting more, the cool of the rain giving you goosebumps.

I know I shouldn't think of her, I know I can't be with her. She's my best friend's brother's ex. There is a guy code and I need to remember that. But as I finally start to fall asleep, she is all I can think of.

* * *

Marcus drops me off at home Sunday afternoon and for the first time in two days, I feel like I can breathe again. I don't know what is worse, the anticipation that Marcus may beat me or the beating itself. No beatings for me this weekend, but I did see a bruise forming on Brenda's jaw this morning. I hope I don't see her there again, for her own sake.

Marcus was on his best behavior with me all weekend. He was interested in my football games for the rest of the season more than anything else. He took me with him on some errands that he had to make.

Marcus always introducing me as "the star quarterback" was embarrassing at times, but it was better than the usual words I would hear from his mouth. I don't think I will ever be able to hear the words "this is for your own good" again in my life without freezing. Thankfully I didn't hear those words this weekend.

I walk into my mom's apartment and set my bag down. I slump onto the couch as Mom comes out of the kitchen. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" Evelyn asks as she sits on the edge of her seat. I can see the stress in the way she wrings her hands in front of me.

"I'm fine. He didn't touch me," I say, exhaustion evident in my voice. I hardly slept all weekend, too afraid that he would come into my room and beat me.

"I'm sorry you have to go there, Tobias. I tried, I—"

I put my hand up to stop her talking. "I know you did. It's okay."

"What did you do all weekend, then?" she asks.

"Not much. He had me run a few errands with him, nothing special," I shrug.

"Be careful with him, Tobias. Always be on alert. He is always up to no good. Some strange deal, here and there. Make sure you take note of who he has you meeting with, just to be safe."

"Yeah, okay," I say, not caring right now. I just want to shower and go to bed. I get up to go to my room. "I'm going to bed."

"Tobias, at least eat something before you try and sleep. You will sleep better if you have something in your stomach. I'm sure you didn't eat or sleep enough all weekend while you were there."

"Fine," I say. I am too tired to argue with her and I really do just want to sleep. This will get her off my back and I will be able to finally get some rest.


	22. Chapter 22

**TRIS**

* * *

I dash through the hall toward the back doors leading to the fields, slowing down when I pass a teacher then hurrying my pace again. I usually go straight from gym class to my after school cheer practice, but today I had to meet with Mr. Porter about my physics grade. I failed another test. Mr. Porter gave me a few extra-credit assignments to bring up my grade, but I would have to ace every test and assignment for the rest of the semester to bring my grade up from its current low D to the B-average Dad is demanding.

I also met with Tori this morning. I still have no idea what I would like to do with my life, and the meeting was unproductive. I know she's on my side and wants to help me, but my only option is to get a tutor and it makes me nervous to let some random student see just how pathetic my grades have become… and how far behind I am in understanding the concepts in all my classes. I could always ask Will, as Tori suggested, and I told her I would think about it. If the thought of a near stranger knowing of my failures wasn't horrifying enough, letting my friends know about it might be even worse… especially the smart, hard-working ones like Will and Four.

When I go outside to the practice fields, the football players are scrimmaging and my cheerleading squad is practicing stunts. I had better hurry up and get over there; I'm the captain of the team and really should be there to give direction when we do this stuff.

I'm on my way there when I hear Lauren shout out, "Four!" The football players have just stopped for a quick water break, and Four turns when he hears his name.

My mouth drops open when I realize which trick Lauren, Maria and Skylar are about to practice. "Lauren, don't!" I call out. I don't like Lauren one bit, but that doesn't mean I want to see her get hurt. None of the three girls are experienced enough for the flip she's about to attempt.

But I'm too late. I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand as I watch Skylar misjudge Lauren's landing and I hear the sickening crack when Lauren lands on the side of her ankle, and the ear-piercing scream that follows.

I break into a run. Four and a few other boys beat me to her. Lauren is holding her ankle in her hands, still screaming, tears streaming down her face.

"Damn it," I hiss. I can see just by looking at Lauren's ankle that the bone is no longer in the straight line it should be. I have no doubt that she's broken it pretty badly.

Coach Amar jogs over. "Can someone drive her to the hospital?" he bellows. Half a dozen of the boys' hands shoot into the air, and I notice with satisfaction that none of the boys from our group are among them.

But then Lauren says in a shaky voice, "Can you take me, Four?" And then she bats her eyelashes. _You've got to be kidding me. Even with a broken leg she won't let up with the flirting!_

"Take her for medical attention, Four," Amar demands.

"Yes, sir," Four mumbles.

Then Amar looks to me. "Tris, I think you'd better go see Ms. Graham." I hold back my annoyed groan. Ms. Graham doesn't come to many of our practices as I am supposed to be in charge, but officially, she's the advisor/coach for our cheer team. Only because the school requires that there be a staff member technically in charge of any school club or team. This is a hassle I really didn't need right now, and all because Lauren wanted to show off for the new quarterback.

Four picks her up bridal style and Lauren lays her head on his shoulder, still in pain but looking content at the same time. _I get a headache to deal with, especially since I wasn't there to direct practice, and now Lauren is still getting what she wanted: attention from Four,_ I think bitterly.

* * *

I hoped to have missed Ms. Graham, but today seems to be full of bad luck. She's still in her classroom when I arrive.

"Ms. Graham?" I ask nervously, and she looks up, surprised to see me here.

"Tris," she says. She leans back in her chair and threads her fingers together behind her head. "What brings you by this afternoon? Shouldn't you be at cheer practice."

I hop up to sit on the desk nearest the teacher. "I cut practice short today. There was an incident." Ms. Graham raises her eyebrows. "You see, I had to go see Mr. Porter after school, so I was late to practice. When I got there a few of the girls were practicing a trick that I never would have let them do had I been there. Lauren fell and got hurt. I think her ankle might be broken."

Ms. Graham leans forward and folds her hands together on the desk. "Tris, I think we need to make some changes within the team."

"Changes? Wha- what do you mean, what kind of changes?"

"Well, Tris, I had been considering this even before today. You may not even be eligible for the cheer squad when midterm grades come out in a few weeks due to your grade in my class alone. Your father said he would speak with you about the lack of effort you have been showing in my class, but you still haven't turned in all of your assignments since then."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I ― I'm trying, I really am ―"

"I hope your next test reflects that, Beatrice, but completing your assignments will be important to understanding the materials well enough to pass the test. And we both know you need to do better than just passing."

I wipe my sweaty palms on my shorts. "Yes, ma'am." I mumble.

Ms. Graham looks at me with tired eyes and gets up, walking to the file cabinet. "I can only guess that you were visiting with Mr. Porter for the same reason, and now as a result, you were not there to lead practice and a student has been injured, and you and I are stuck filling out an incident report. I think this is too much for you right now, Tris."

I feel tears burning in my eyes. I was worried about anyone knowing how badly I have been doing in my classes, but this… "You're kicking me off the cheer team?" My voice is shaky.

"No," Ms. Graham sighs, "not yet, anyway. But I think I must name a new captain, someone who can be more reliable. If you want to stay on the team, Tris, you'll need to be doing everything you can to bring up your grades, and that may mean missing practice sometimes."

I bite my cheek to get control of my emotions and nod without meeting Ms. Graham's eyes. "Can I finish out the week, at least?" I ask with hope in my voice. "It's already Wednesday. And who will the new captain be?"

"Alright," Ms. Graham sighs. "You can remain captain through Friday's game. Then I will have Shauna take over the role of captain."

"Fine. I mean, thanks," I say quietly. "Can I go now?"

"Not yet." Ms. Graham has just pulled a paper out of the file cabinet after several moments searching for it. "As you are currently still the captain, we have this incident report to fill out."

I hold back a groan. I want to leave this room so badly right now. "Fine. Let's get it over with."

* * *

Some of my tension drains away just sitting in my spot by the river. Not enough, but some. Even though I basically live alone, too many memories and too much baggage occupies my house. The river is the one place that is just mine, the one place I can really relax and let go of my troubles, but today was too much and it's harder than usual.

Zeke gave me a joint when I stopped by, and I roll it between my fingers. I know it won't help me get back on track in my classes but right now I am not sure I care. I didn't go to Zeke for weed. I went to him for support, I went to him needing my friend. But it was weird, and he seemed just so… distant. Uncomfortable. I didn't ask for the joint. I think he just gave it to me because he felt bad that he wasn't giving me what I really _did_ need from him.

I hear someone coming through the bushes and quickly tuck the joint back into my purse. Four emerges from the foliage picking leaves out of his hair.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him as he sits next to me on the big flat rock.

"Looking for you," he answers. His hand rests next to mine on the rock, so close that we are almost touching, but not quite. His fingers are long and narrow. My hand looks small next to his.

"Me? Why?"

Four shrugs. "Stopped by Zeke's. He said you came by upset. I wanted to be sure you were alright."

I chew on my cheek. "I'm fine. Just a bad day." I don't want to tell him about losing my spot as cheer captain all because of my terrible grades in school. He wouldn't look at me the same way if he knew.

"That surprises me."

"Why's that?"

"Well," Four smirks. "I thought you'd get at least a _little_ satisfaction from seeing Lauren hurt. I've gathered you don't like her much."

I shake my head. I once had considered Lauren a friend, but it was all a game to her. She had her sights on Uriah, and her lies and manipulation almost succeeded in ending our relationship. In the end, Uri and I ruined it all on our own, but I don't like or trust Lauren one bit.

"I don't, but I didn't want to spend the afternoon filling out an incident report, either. How about you? You just got stuck with her for the afternoon, how was that?"

"Torture," he groans. "God, the whining, and the… the thing with the eyelashes. I was starting to think there was something wrong with her eyes before I realized what she was trying to do." I snicker. "The ankle is broken. Eight weeks in a cast. I was stuck there for two hours before her mother finally showed up. Felt like a lifetime, but it's over now."

"Thank god for that," I laugh. "She's a pest."

"She is." We stare at the river for a minute. "Tris, are you okay? Really?" he asks. "I mean...I can see how uncomfortable you are lately. I know it probably feels like everything has changed, but sometimes change can be good."

"Sometimes," I shrug. "I just always knew where I fit before, and now I'm not sure if there's anywhere that I fit at all."

There is a long silence, then I feel his hand, the same hand I noticed next to my own a few minutes ago, move to cover mine. He laces our fingers together. "You still fit, Tris. You do. I see it. It just takes some time, when things change, for it to all settle in. You haven't lost Zeke, probably not even Uriah. It will all blow over." I look at Four and he's already looking at me. His eyes meet mine and I feel like he can see everything I've been thinking and feeling. "You still have the girls," he says, and he tilts my chin up with his finger. "You have me."

That's when he leans in to kiss me. I don't know what to do at first, I'm too shocked, so I just let it happen. I want to kiss him back… I really want to. But I don't quite know what I feel for Four yet, and Uriah flashes in my mind. I push Four away.

I look out at the river and scoot further away from him. "I'm sorry," I murmur. "I ― I can't... It's not you. Uriah and I _just_ broke up. I ―"

"Tris, stop," he says. "It's, um, it's fine. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry." I only get one glance at his crestfallen face before he is on his feet and disappearing back down the path through the trees and bushes.


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

* * *

 _ **TRIS**_

* * *

I am sitting here in my kitchen, alone, _studying_ on a Saturday night. Home alone on a Saturday night. I honestly don't remember the last time this happened. I could have gone with Marlene and Lynn, some dare at the beach, I didn't bother to pay attention to what. But I spent the whole day shopping with Christina, and I had promised myself that I would spend a few hours catching up on schoolwork at some point today.

Christina spent the whole day alternating between forcing me into fitting rooms to try on outfits even sluttier than what Lauren wears, and pointing out 'hot' guys everywhere we went, sometimes going as far as literally pushing me toward them. I tried to tell her I wasn't interested in dating right now, but of course she wouldn't listen. So the alone time really isn't so bad tonight anyway. But it still feels weird and wrong.

I started three chapters back in our physics textbook, but what I'm looking at may as well be written in a foreign language. I groan, wondering if I'll have to go back to the very beginning of the textbook for any of this to make sense. Will might run screaming when he sees just how far behind I am.

I gave in and asked Will to tutor me for physics. When I remembered that he saw my last test and offered to help me then, it made me feel a little bit more comfortable asking him for help. I just hope he doesn't tell anybody. We're going to start next week, but it will be totally embarrassing to go into this as clueless as I am right now. I want to catch myself up as much as possible before then.

Will is busy with cross-country track and doesn't have time to tutor me in math as well, so I had been thinking about asking Four for help. I considered it for all of five minutes before he tried to kiss me.

I realize now that it's been there for a while, simmering under the surface, but I hadn't allowed myself to think in that way about him before _that_ moment. For the three days since I rejected that kiss, every time I see him I remember how I wanted to kiss him back, and the guilt I felt for feeling that way. Uriah and I were together for a long time, friends for much longer, and I can't do that to him ― I can't move on that quickly.

But I hate the tension between Four and me ever since. He has gone back to sitting with Uri in Spanish class, mostly only talks to Shauna during English, and math is just plain awkward. I know he's embarrassed and I wish I knew what to say to him.

I shake my head and try to force my brain to focus on the tiny print in my textbook. I've flipped all the way back to chapter 2 now. At least it doesn't all look like Greek now. Only some of it.

I've barely made it through reading two pages, which admittedly took much longer than it should as I just couldn't keep my mind on the text, when I am interrupted by three slow knocks at the side door off the kitchen. My stomach drops through the floor. I recognize that knock too well.

I take my time marking where I left off with a post-it and closing my book. I set it in a corner of the counter and go to the door, then I take a deep breath to prepare myself before opening it.

Uriah leans against the doorframe. "Tris." His speech is sluggish. "Can I... come in?"

I close my eyes and slowly exhale. I want to say no, I don't want him here, not like this. But if I turn him away he's just going to get back in his car and probably get himself killed. I've seen Uriah drunk plenty of times, but this is worse than usual, I don't know how he even managed to get himself here in this state. I even go out and peek around the side of the garage to check that his Jeep is in one piece, and miraculously, it looks just fine.

His glassy, bloodshot eyes follow me as I make my way back to the side door to the house. I hold out my open palm. "Keys," I command. "Then you can come in." He takes forever fishing through his pocket, but once his keys are in my hand I nod at him. He comes in and sits in his usual seat at the kitchen table, and I sit in my chair beside him. "Why are you here, Uriah?" I sigh. Just looking at him has seemed to sap every last bit of energy from my body.

"I love you," he blurts out, and he rubs an uncoordinated hand over his face.

I groan and bury my face in my hands. "Uriah. Please don't do this." I can't deal with this shit right now.

"No, I know, I don't mean..." He shakes his head. "I never want to hurt you. I didn't mean to…"

"What are you talking about?"

"I just, I didn't mean it. So fast after... It just, I… it just happened. I didn't…"

" _What_ just happened?" Being sober while trying to have what seems to be a serious conversation with a drunk person is beyond frustrating.

"First we were just texting. We danced at the party. I didn't mean for it to go as far as it did." He looks all zoned out. "Damn, it was good."

My jaw drops, I finally get his meaning. "Are you kidding me, Uriah? We were together for that long and two weeks later―"

"I know," he groans. There are tears in his eyes. "Tris, I miss you."

"You're telling me you already moved on some other girl, then you tell me how good it was, then you're telling me you miss me." I shake my head. "Unbelievable. Who was it?" He opens his mouth to answer but I think better of it and hold my palm up to stop him. "Don't answer that. I don't want to know." I am suddenly very glad that I went home from the party so early again.

Uriah nods at me with a stupid, blank look on his face. "You were right. You and me, together. Made me an asshole." Well, if that didn't hit me like a punch in the stomach. It was _my_ fault he was an asshole? Doubt that, since we broke up two weeks ago he's being a jackass again right now.

I've heard enough. "Get up, Uriah," I snap. "I'm taking you home. Now." I'm not going to even to take the time to call Zeke. I really hope he is home, I don't want to have to see Uri again tomorrow to get his car back to him.

I have to support Uriah on the way out to his Jeep because he's so drunk he can't walk straight. After I basically push him into the passenger seat, he can't seem to figure out how to work the seatbelt, and I have to buckle it for him. He mumbles complaints about the shoulder belt, which is only cutting into his neck because he's all slumped over. I roll my eyes as I tuck it under his arm; I deal with the annoyance and discomfort of that stupid shoulder belt over my neck every time I get into someone else's car. The lap-only belts are one thing I love about my old truck, even if they are a little less safe.

I've barely made it two blocks before I look over at Uriah and see that he has totally passed out, slumped forward with the side of his head against the window. As I drive, I am seething. I rejected Four just a few days ago, making things painfully awkward with a cute boy I like and who had become my friend. And now here I am, driving my drunk ex-boyfriend home after he confessed that he hooked up with some bitch not even two weeks after our break-up! I should have just kissed Four when I had the chance.

I glance down to find the volume knob on the radio and turn it up, looking back at the road every second or two. Everything is in different places than in my truck, and though I've driven Uriah's Jeep several times before, it's still an adjustment to find all the controls.

I'm just settling back in my seat when I realize that a large truck, coming from my right, is not stopping like it should.

For a millisecond I am debating whether to slam on the brakes or floor the gas pedal, but hesitation is the worst thing in this moment, and it doesn't matter anyway. It is too late. There's no escaping the collision. The bright, bluish-white headlights blind me, and I barely register the deafening crunch of metal before everything goes black.


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

* * *

 _ **ZEKE**_

* * *

I have been pacing the hospital waiting room for twenty minutes and no update yet. All the lady at the front desk told me was that my brother was in surgery. Surgery for what? I don't know.

I had finally talked Maria into going on a date with me, and it went well ― when Mom called to tell me Uriah had been in an accident and to get to the hospital, Maria and I were in her room and had already shed most of our clothes. It's funny how I spent the whole last month trying to get with that chick, but a few words from Mom made Maria less than insignificant in an instant. She offered to come with me but there's no way I could have put up with her idiotic comments and questions while waiting to hear if my brother is ok. I'll be the first to admit that I am not the sharpest tool in the shed. But next to Maria I look like Einstein.

Mom is taking the next flight from Miami; she should be boarding about now. I texted my friends to come down here because I am going crazy waiting here alone. Everyone has responded except for Tris. Usually I'm the king of distraction, but sitting here alone, all I can do is dream up worst case scenarios. What if he's brain damaged, or has amnesia? What if he's paralyzed.

 _What if he doesn't make it?_

I need those doctors to come out here and tell me that my brother is just fine and take me to see him.

I see Marlene rush in through the automatic double doors with a tear streaked face and Al close on her heels and out of breath.

Marlene throws her arms around me. "Zeke, what happened?! Is he ― what's going on?" Marlene sputters, clinging to me. I feel her tears against my neck.

"I don't know," I say. "I don't know anything. All they told me is that Uriah is in surgery, I don't even know what his injuries are or anything. They said I have to wait for the doctor to come out and update me."

I pass off a weeping Marlene back to Al and repeat the same answers to the same questions over and over as our friends trickle in: first Four, then Lynn and Shauna, and Christina and Will last. But still no Tris.

No Tris, but then Caleb rushes through the door.

I'm confused seeing him for a moment but then it hits me. "No…" I groan. "Why would they…"

"What?" Four asks.

I don't answer him, I just get up and follow Caleb to the front desk.

"I'm here about Beatrice Prior," he tells the receptionist. His voice shakes. "She's my sister, she's been in an accident." So they were together. I thought this had to be a drunk driving accident, but Tris would never have gotten in the car with him drunk.

The receptionist types on her computer then tells Caleb, "They just took her back for scans. A doctor will come to the waiting room to update you."

Caleb thanks the nurse then turns to me and narrows his eyes. "Let me guess, Uriah was with her."

"Sounds like it."

Caleb glares at me. "Of course he was," he mutters, then walks away without even asking about my brother. Of course he'd blame Uriah. I don't know what happened or whose fault this accident was, but neither does Caleb.

I'm about to follow Caleb and tell him where he can shove it but then I see all my friends anxiously waiting to see what I know. So I decide to leave Caleb alone for now and go back to let the gang know that Uriah isn't the only one we've got to worry about now.

* * *

Hours pass and Uriah must still be in surgery because no one has come to update me. The longer I wait without knowing how he is, the sicker I feel. Caleb did get to go back and see Tris, though. I hope he will come back to let us know how she is, but I doubt it. I'll have to track him down later, after I know that my brother is okay. I know Tris is alive and that she's got her brother looking after her, and that is enough for now.

Christina and Will have gone home for now. Will tried to get Marlene to go home too, but she refused to leave until she knew that Tris and Uriah were okay, but the girl was practically hysterical. Four made me promise to text him as soon as I knew anything before he, Al and Lynn led her off to the hospital cafeteria. He also offered to get me a sandwich or something but I said no. I'm too worried to eat. I think that's literally the first time that's ever happened to me.

Mom's plane is probably still in the air. I don't expect to see her for another two hours or so. But Shauna volunteered to stay with me. She's sitting next to me on the long bench seat. I remember Maria offering to come along. I'm so glad I'm here with Shauna instead. She knows when to distract me, and when to just sit quietly and not say anything at all.

"It's bad that he's been in surgery for so long, isn't it?" I say while watching the door, willing a doctor to come out. "He's been in there such a long time. That has to be a bad sign."

Shauna frowns and doesn't say anything for a moment, she looks deep in thought. "It might be." At least she's being honest. "But you know what's good about it?" I shake my head. How could there be anything good about my brother being in surgery for more than four hours? "It means that he's alive. Whatever injuries he has, they haven't given up on him, and Uriah hasn't given up, either. That's what you need to focus on, Zeke."

I nod. Her words have helped a little, so I try to smile at her. I don't think it worked though.

"How about a hug?" Shauna asks softly.

"A hug would be good," I say. My voice sounds weird, all monotone and flat. Shauna reaches out and wraps her arms around me. Her touch is comforting and I let myself relax in her arms. It's just me and Shauna here, though I'm not sure I even care who sees me right now. And I let the tears fall.

* * *

When Shauna convinced me to lie down on the bench using her lap as a pillow I hadn't planned to sleep, but the way she was playing with my hair made me feel so much calmer, I must have dozed off. Next thing I know, someone is shaking my shoulder. I open my eyes and see Four crouched down in front of me.

"Zeke, wake up," he says.

"Huh?" I say, still groggy. "Did my mom get here?"

"Not yet. But some cops just came in and I think I heard them ask for Uriah and Tris."

I sit right up and when I look at the front desk I see two uniformed officers there talking to the receptionist. Then I see her pointing to me. One of them is led through the double doors by a nurse and the other turns and walks purposefully across the waiting room to me and my friends. Four has taken a seat next to me on the bench with Shauna still on my other side, and Marlene, Lynn and Al are sitting in chairs near Shauna.

"I'm looking for the family of Uriah Pedrad," he says. He's a young guy, probably only in his early twenties, with his black hair buzzed short like he should be in the military or something. He stands really straight, too.

I raise my hand like I'm in school or something. "That's me. He's my twin brother. My mom is coming as soon as she can but she was in Miami when she got the call."

Officer Stick-Up-His-Butt nods and sits down across from me and finally relaxes his posture so he looks more normal. He introduces himself as Officer McGarry and I introduce myself and all my friends.

"Well, we were hoping to speak to Uriah, or especially to Beatrice as she was the driver, but it seems neither are able to be questioned at the moment." I swallow hard; why can't they talk to Tris yet? It has been hours. "So for now we are checking in with family members so that you know who to contact if and when those involved regain consciousness so we can get a statement." When or _if_?! "Do you happen to know where your brother was coming from tonight?"

I shake my head. "I don't know what he was doing tonight. I was on a date… I have no idea what he and Tris were doing in the car together."

"And what is Uriah's relationship with Ms. Prior?"

"She's his ex-girlfriend. We've been friends with Tris since third grade. She and Uriah dated for the last year or two and just broke up a few weeks ago. I can't figure out why they were even together, I don't think Uri has even spoken to her since, even for school." Officer McGarry nods and writes things down on his notepad.

"Are you allowed to tell us what happened? Nobody has told us anything at all yet," Lynn interrupts.

Officer McGarry leans back in his chair. "Ms. Prior was driving Mr. Pedrad's vehicle, traveling east down W North Avenue, with Mr. Pedrad in the front passenger seat. While your brother's blood alcohol content was quite high at .21%, Ms. Prior was sober. She had the right of way, but when she reached the intersection with N Fairfield Avenue, a large Ford truck traveling south on Fairfield failed to stop at the intersection and collided head-on with the passenger door. The driver of said vehicle did not slow or stop because the stop sign at that intersection was missing."

I straighten. North & Fairfield… that's the sign that Uriah dared Al to steal last month… the one that Uriah hung up in Tris's room. I glance at Al, he has gone white as a ghost and looks like he's going to be sick.

Officer McGarry continues, "The driver of the Ford believes he was traveling about thirty miles per hour. Both Ms. Prior and Mr. Pedrad were unconscious when paramedics arrived." He notices Al's face. "You alright, kid?"

"Yeah, um, just… I'll be fine," Al says. "Excuse me." He gets up and quickly walks off. Obvious much?

"Is the driver of the other vehicle alright?" Shauna asks. Probably helping take the officer's attention off Al's reaction.

Officer McGarry nods. "He was properly restrained and his truck's safety features minimized his injuries. He's scraped up, but will be fine. Uriah and Beatrice, unfortunately, were wearing their safety belts improperly." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card. "If you have any additional information or want updates on the case, you can contact me here," he says as he circles one of the phone numbers on it with a blue pen. "I hope your brother and friend come out of this alright. It's a shame that stupid kids would mess with something as important as a stop sign. Innocent people pay the price."

I thank him and shake his hand, and exchange a nervous glance with Shauna as Officer McGarry walks away.

* * *

 _ **TRIS**_

* * *

 _Beep… beep… beep… beep_

I groan at the annoying sound and shift on the uncomfortable mattress. I ache all over, especially my neck and chest. That isn't my usual alarm, and my bed has never been this uncomfortable before. I open my eyes to see a white tile ceiling much like the ones at school. When I lift my head, I see green walls, a tile floor, a television mounted on the wall.

There are tubes connected to needles taped into my left arm and the beeping sound must becoming from the heart monitor to my left. My right arm wrapped in bandages and there are large cuts on my hands. To my right, there is a small cabinet and a single chair, with my brother slumped over in it, asleep.

I clear my throat. "Caleb." My voice sounds raspy and quiet, and he doesn't wake. How did I get here?

I find the button that calls a nurse as images flash back to my mind. Looking for the right controls for the Jeep's radio, the headlights too close to the passenger window, right next to where Uriah was passed out.

 _Uriah._

"Caleb," I say as loud as I can as I frantically push the nurse call button again. The extra effort of yelling at my brother brings a sharp pain to my ribcage. Luckily, this time he blinks as he wakes up.

"Beatrice," he sighs. "I'm glad to see your eyes again."

"How long have I been out?" I ask. "Is Uriah okay?"

"You've been out about twelve hours," he answers. "You did wake a couple other times, but you were disoriented and the doctors said you probably wouldn't remember it later."

I shake my head. "I don't."

The door opens and a nurse bustles in. Caleb pulls out his phone to text someone. "Ah, you're awake. I'll need to call in neuro to do an assessment."

The doctors come soon and they ask me a bunch of questions and give me simple commands to follow to make sure I am no longer confused. They also explain my injuries to me: cracked ribs, a concussion, a broken arm, whiplash, and compressed vertebrae.

"Caleb, you didn't tell me about Uriah. Is he alright?"

"Uh, don't worry, Beatrice. He's tough, he will be alright."

My heart pounds in my ears. "He _will_ be," I repeat. "So he isn't."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. Tell me the truth, Caleb." He stares at me biting his lip, and I glare at him. I need to know about Uriah. He has to be okay. He just has to. I may have been mad at him last night, but he's been my best friend for… forever, it feels like.

The door opens and Zeke rushes in, followed by Hana. Their eyes are red-rimmed and swollen but when our eyes meet I can see the genuine relief in theirs.

"Thank god you're alright, Tris," Zeke breathes.

"I'd hardly call her 'alright,'" Caleb scoffs. "She's got neck, back and rib injuries as well as a concussion and broken arm."

Zeke glares at Caleb and I gulp. I'm afraid to ask now. But I have to know.

"Zeke, Hana, how is Uriah? No one will tell me anything." Zeke opens his mouth to answer but is silenced when Caleb clears his throat and gives them a warning glare.

"Tris, honey, I don't think you should worry about that right now," Hana says carefully.

"Tell me," I growl. It's hard to get a full breath in, I don't know if it's the pain in my ribs or not knowing if Uriah is okay. The fact that they won't tell me anything makes it clear that he isn't. "Is he ―" I gasp for breath. "Zeke, tell me ―" Another breath, more labored than the last. "Take me to see him!" I cry.

"Tris, you need to calm down," Caleb says gently.

"No!" I cry. "Get… get out, Caleb!"

"What?!"

"Out!" I cry. Caleb shakes his head and backs out of the room as Hana sits next to me on the bed, takes my left hand and begins instructing me on how to calm my breathing.

"I'll tell you when you've calmed down, Tris," she soothes. "I promise, but first you need to breathe."

It takes a few minutes to calm myself because my thoughts are racing, what if Uriah is really hurt? What if he's ― I can't even think it. No matter how angry he has made me, he has been my best friend for so long.

"I'm calm now," I say even though no one would miss how shaky I sound. "Tell me."

Tears stream down my face as Hana gently explains Uriah's condition. She tells me that most of the time I was asleep, Uriah spent in surgery to get multiple internal bleeds under control. They had to drill a hole in his skull to drain the bleeding and swelling in his brain. She says he has a lacerated liver from the seatbelt being tucked under his arm instead of over his shoulder ― _my fault_ , _I buckled him in that way_. His right leg is broken in two places, his right optic nerve was crushed and he will probably never see out of that eye again, and he has three broken ribs ― one of which punctured a lung. The bleeding was hard to get under control because of all the alcohol in his system.

"Will he make it?" I ask between sobs. I can't believe this. It's all my fault. I was driving. I wouldn't let him stay, I insisted on taking him right home, and now…

"We think so," Hana says. "It's too soon to know what will happen with his brain injury."

"I'm so glad you're okay Tris," Zeke says with tears in his eyes. "It was just me here waiting at first… they wouldn't tell me anything, only family. Do you remember what happened?"

I close my eyes and recount my whole time with Uriah that night, from the moment he showed up at my door totally wasted. Hana looks pale as I describe how drunk he was. When I finish my story I am sobbing again.

"I need to get back to the ICU," Hana tells me. "Honey, you did the right thing trying to bring him home safe. You couldn't have known this was going to happen. We love you and are so glad you're okay." She gives me a kiss on the forehead before leaving.

Zeke glances back at the door after Hana leaves, then looks at me and takes my uninjured left hand. "Look, Tris… this isn't your fault. If anything, it's Uriah's."

"What? What do you mean by that? He shouldn't have shown up drunk but after that all the decisions were mine," I say shaking my head.

Zeke sighs. "The accident happened at North & Fairfield," he says. I just stare at him. "Because the stop sign was missing."

I clap my hand over my mouth and bite back a sob. The stop sign. _The_ stop sign. The one that is hanging on the wall in my room, the one Uriah dared Al to steal last month.

The dare game. Uriah is fighting for his life… because of a stupid dare.

"I should have stopped him," I whisper. "I should have stopped him from giving that dare, or stopped Al from actually doing it…" The whole dare game was _my_ idea. No matter how I look at this, it doesn't stop being my fault.

"Any of us could have stopped this," Zeke says sounding frustrated. "It's not all on you, Tris. It's no more your fault than it is mine, or Christina's, or Shauna's or Will's or any of us. It was a stupid dare, and none of us thought about what could happen. Just…don't tell anyone that it was us who took it. I'll send someone to hide the sign."

I nod, but I don't feel any better.

"I need to stay with Uriah, I don't know how much I will be able to come down and see you," Zeke says to me glancing at where Caleb is scowling at us through the window. "But if you need anything… just get word to me, I'll make it happen. 'Kay, Bumble Bea?" I smile at the nickname, a throwback from the early days of our friendship when were little kids with hardly a care in the world.

"Okay. Take care of him." I accept a gentle hug from Zeke before he leaves, glancing back with a sad smile and worried eyes.


	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE**

* * *

 _ **FOUR**_

* * *

I am the last one to arrive to the hospital the next day, other than Al, whom no one has heard from. The sun was already rising when I left the hospital early this morning, and I slept restlessly until early in the afternoon.

We are not in the main waiting room like we were yesterday. This time we are in a special waiting room that is outside the Intensive Care Unit, where Uriah has been admitted. I sit down next to Shauna, and she fills me in about what's going on. "Hana is taking us back one at a time to see him. She warned us not to be alarmed that he doesn't look like himself."

"What does that mean?" I mutter. Shauna shrugs. "Has anyone gone in to see him yet?"

"Marlene's in there now. She's the first."

I wonder if that's a good idea, with how upset Marlene was last night. "Marlene has taken this really hard, hasn't she? It's strange seeing her like that. She's always so happy."

Shauna nods. "She's usually cheerful but she cares deeply about people. She just wants everyone to be happy. She's… you know, she's the kind of person who wears her heart on her sleeve. And we've all been friends with Tris and Uriah for a long time."

I nod. "Has anyone gone in to see Tris?"

Shauna shakes her head. "We thought we'd take turns seeing Uriah first then go down to visit her after. I don't know what kind of shape she's in. Might be better not to have too many people in there at a time."

Marlene appears in the doorway with swollen, red-rimmed eyes but she isn't crying now. Her eyes almost look dead, she looks like she is in shock. Lynn jumps up and pulls her into a hug. Then I see a woman waiting in the doorway who must be Mrs. Pedrad. Christina gets up and leaves with her.

I sit patiently in the waiting room, letting everyone else go ahead of me. I don't know Uriah as well as the rest of them do, so it only seems right. I can tell that all the girls have been crying when, one-by-one, they come back from seeing Uriah. Even Lynn's eyes are red and her cheeks tear-stained. In pairs they leave to visit Tris before heading home, and slowly the group in the ICU waiting room dwindles until I am the only one left.

Shauna was the last to go in, other than me. "Do you want me to wait for you?" she asks when she comes back.

"No, it's okay. Lynn is probably waiting on you," I say. I'm not even sure if I am going to visit with Tris today. I probably shouldn't. I have barely talked to her since I tried to kiss her last week.

Shauna leaves and I feel nervous as I go to meet Mrs. Pedrad where she waits for me. "Hi, Mrs. Pedrad," I say with my hands stuffed in my pockets. "I'm Four."

With a smile that doesn't reach her tired, bloodshot eyes she nods and says, "Hello, Four. Thanks for coming. Zeke has told me a lot about you. And please, call me Hana."

I walk beside her through the double doors. About twenty ICU rooms encircle the big nurses' station in the center of a lobby, and people in scrubs bustle around. Hana doesn't react when a loud alarm sounds and a bunch of people go running to a room off to the right; she simply leads me to the left.

"I need to run home and take a shower, I was traveling all night and haven't had the chance," Hana tells me. She looks at me hopefully. "Would you mind keeping Zeke company?"

"Sure, of course," I answer.

Curtains are partially closed, halfway covering the glass wall that faces from Uriah's room to the nurse's station. As we go through the door I notice Zeke sitting on the bench in front of the window, rubbing his eyes like he just woke up.

Then my eyes fall on Uriah and I suck in a sharp breath.

Now I know what Shauna meant when she told me that Uriah won't look like himself. If Zeke weren't sitting a few yards away, if Hana hadn't led me to this room, I would never have known that it was Uriah lying in front of me. His face is swollen beyond recognition and white bandages are wrapped around his head. His right leg is bandaged in a soft cast and raised above the rest of his body. He isn't wearing a gown and the sheets are pulled halfway up his chest. I can see more bandages wrapped around his torso. Cuts litter his face and body, ranging from larger ones held closed by stitches to mere scrapes left unbandaged. There are machines everywhere, attached all over him, and a large tube leading down his throat, breathing for him.

I just stare at Uriah's lifeless form in the bed while Hana speaks quietly with Zeke. Uriah's personality usually makes him seem larger than life, but now he is looking smaller than I have ever seen him.

Hana nods at me as she leaves, and I go to the window seat and sit down next to Zeke. "So…" I really don't know what to say. This is harder than I thought it would be. "How are you holding up?"

"Well, I don't know if my brother will live or die so… I'm just great." It was a stupid question, but I'm still surprised by Zeke's sarcasm. He looks down. "Sorry. I don't…"

"It's fine, Zeke." We sit there, and I think about the events of last night. One thing sticks out at me, something I haven't had a chance to ask about yet. "What was up with the stop sign? You guys all got kind of a strange look on your faces when the officer mentioned it."

Zeke sighs. "Al stole that sign. Uriah dared him to. Al usually never goes through with dares, I don't know why he did with that one… I don't know why none of us thought about…"

I don't know why none of them thought about how dangerous it was, either. While most of their― _our_ ―dares are all fun and games, that one was dangerous. But I certainly don't need to point that out to Zeke now.

"Tris is blaming herself," Zeke adds. "I told her it isn't her fault, that any of us could have stopped it and we didn't, but I know her. Tris is like a sister to me. She's stubborn as hell and she's not going to forgive herself for this anytime soon." I stay quiet. I don't want to talk about Tris, not here. I never should have tried to kiss her, I don't know what came over me that day but I just couldn't help myself. Now I can hardly look at her, and to top it all off, I feel like I betrayed Uriah and Zeke.

"Look," Zeke says. "I didn't get a chance to talk to any of the others about this, so I need you to do some things for me."

"Sure," I say, the guilt fresh on my mind. "Whatever you need."

Zeke nods. "First, I need you to go into Tris's room and get that stop sign. Hide it someplace. Before Caleb or her dad see it ― right after you leave here. There's a spare key under a rock a few yards to the right of the side door off the kitchen." I nod so he knows I got it. "The other thing… is that I need you to make sure Tris is taken care of. I can't―" he runs his hand through his hair, looking frustrated and guilty. "I can't be there for her, I need to be here with Uri. I _haven't_ been there for her lately and it was wrong. All this shit, taking sides over the break-up, it seems so stupid now. Tris is injured, and she's hurting inside, and someone's gotta be there for her. Her brother is here now but I don't think he'll stick around once he has to go back to class tomorrow. _We_ are her _real_ family."

My stomach churns. I know he's right, she needs all of us. I can't say no. And I know I could never leave her alone through this, either. I told her the other day she had me, and I have to make good on that―for her, and for Zeke. And even for Uriah. And who am I kidding―I do care about Tris, and no matter how embarrassed I am, I would have to make sure she was okay.

"Don't worry about it, Zeke. We'll all be there for her," I promise. "I'll make sure of it."

* * *

When Hana returns an hour later, I still haven't gotten used to seeing Uriah like this and it's a relief to escape that place. Of course I'll come back soon, because Zeke has been a good friend to me in the short time I have known him.

Zeke walks me out of the ICU. "You goin' down to see Tris?" he asks hopefully. I nod. "Good. Hopefully Caleb won't be there guarding her from us 'hellions,'" he says rolling his eyes. "He's not a fan of her choices in friends, he thinks she should hang out with nerds, like he does."

I laugh, trying to imagine Tris hanging out with the Chess Club or the Mathletes. It's a ridiculous image, just doesn't suit her at all.

We bump fists. "I'll come by after practice tomorrow," I promise.

Zeke shrugs. "If you can. But please just, make sure that Tris―"

"I got it, Zeke," I assure him. Zeke nods and disappears back into the ICU.

Tris's room is two floors down from Uriah's and in a different wing of the hospital. It's calmer in this part of the hospital. The curtains are pulled over the window to her room, so I double check the whiteboard next to the door. Above the room number, 1046, it reads "Prior, B." I don't know what the "B" stands for, but the last name and room number are right, so this door must be hers.

I knock twice and open the door a crack. "Come in," I hear her call out. Her voice is almost musical, but weaker than usual.

I push open the door and pause for a moment in the doorway, taking her in. There are a few scrapes on her face and a bandage wrapped around her arm doubles its usual size. A clear liquid drips from a bag hanging on her left, into a tube connected to her arm. But this room doesn't have the constant beep of a heart monitor or the rhythmic whooshing of a respirator.

"Four." Her voice is a whisper now. If this room had the constant beeping of a heart monitor or the whooshing of a respirator, like Uriah's did, I wouldn't have heard her.

Tris clears her throat. "Come sit down ― I'm glad you're here. You have good timing… Caleb left to take a phone call from my dad. He wouldn't let our other friends into the room." She rolls her eyes.

I ask about Tris's injuries, and she tells me that she'll be on restricted activity for the next four to six weeks while her ribs and neck heal, and her right arm will be in a cast for even longer. The doctors will put the hard cast on when the swelling has gone down in a few days. She will stay a few more days in the hospital and won't be able to return to school for a week.

Tris worries her lip while we sit in an uneasy silence after there is nothing left to say about her injuries. She glances at the door, but I can only seem to look at _her_ , I just can't tear my eyes away from her for long. Even with her hair tangled and her skin marred with bruises and cuts, she is undeniably beautiful.

"Um, Four, there's something I wanted to say… before Caleb comes back." I nod, encouraging her to go on. "I'm sorry. For that night by the river." I tense and look at my hands, bracing myself for further rejection. "To be honest with you, I've been kicking myself ever since because I―I wish I had kissed you back." Her voice has gotten quieter as she speaks until it trails off to a whisper.

I look up, meeting her eyes. "Really? You… you do?" I choke out. My heart is pounding.

Tris nods. "It was never that I didn't want to kiss you, Four. I just didn't know...I wasn't sure if…" She shrugs, leaving me wondering what the rest of that sentence was going to be.

"If what?" I ask. "If you were over Uriah? If you liked me? If…"

"No… yes… I don't…" She shakes her head as if to clear it. "I had a lot of feelings to sort out, yes. But it was more that I didn't want to hurt Uriah any more than I already had and it just seemed too soon."

I nod in understanding and find myself leaning closer to her. "So...do you think maybe... sometime... I could…" I say, moving closer still.

"Sometime," she smiles, and my eyes dart to her lips.

And then I jump at the sound of the door opening and lean back in my chair once again. I look up to see the boy from the waiting room the other day, glaring at me.

"Beatrice," he scolds. Beatrice. That must be what the 'B' on the whiteboard was for. That name seems so wrong for her. "You need to rest. Maybe your… friends… can come by in a few days."

Tris glares at him. This must be her brother, I think I remember that his name is Caleb.

I clear my throat. "That's alright, I was just about to leave anyway."

"Four?" Tris asks sweetly. "Do you think you could get my homework for me, get someone to bring it by?"

I smile. "Of course, Tris. I'll bring it to you tomorrow. Feel better." I nod at Caleb. He returns the gesture but continues glaring at me as I file out of the room.


	26. Chapter 26

_**A/N: I'm so sorry… how have more than 2 months gone by already?! You would think that it would be easier to update in the summer, but somehow I ended up busy all the time. Had this half written when school started back up and finally sat down and finished it. I'll try not to make you wait so long again.**_

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

* * *

 _ **TRIS**_

* * *

My eyes shoot imaginary daggers at Caleb as he slinks out the door to my hospital room like a puppy with its tail between its legs. One look was all it took, I didn't even have to say a word for him to know how pissed I am at him.

After Four left, Caleb told me Dad was coming to see me at the hospital. He conveniently neglected to mention that Dad was already in Chicago, so I am blindsided when my father stalks into my hospital room only an hour later.

Even though I'm so nervous for what he is going to say, my heart is soaring. He's here, he came. _My dad is here to see me._ Sometimes I am not sure if he loves me any more, but now, when I am hurt and scared, he came.

My father's eyes burn into mine with a look of accusation. At first, when I feel the heat behind my eyes, I think he's found a way to set me on fire, to punish me for what I've done, but no—I'm about to cry. It would be impossible to miss the anger and disappointment.

"Let's hear it, Beatrice," Dad says coldly. "How did this happen?"

I gulp and tell the story of how I got into the car accident, beginning with Uriah showing up to the door while I was home studying, to waking up here in the hospital bed, of course leaving out anything having to do with our dare game and Al stealing the stop sign. Dad listens with a blank face the whole time, and I am encouraged when his eyes soften at the end, when I describe the shock of waking up here.

"I told you that hellion would get you into trouble one day," Dad mutters, shaking his head.

"We aren't even together anymore. We broke up a few weeks ago." I don't even know what I'm trying to do―defend myself? Placate my dad? For a moment I see this whole situation the way Zeke did this morning: _It was an accident. It wasn't my fault. It could have happened to anyone._ "I was just trying to do the right thing," I say aloud.

"Yes, Beatrice," Dad says tiredly, "I know you were, and I'm glad you're alright." He sighs and shakes his head. "But even when you're trying to do the right thing, you seem to get into some sort of trouble. I don't know why you can't be more like Caleb. Caleb was never a problem." He looks at me with utter disappointment, and shakes his head. His words echo in my head: " _...a problem."_ I dig my nails into my palm, determined not to let him see how much his words hurt me. "Now I've had to miss an important business dinner to fly out here and square everything away with the hospital."

He glances at his watch. I wish he would just leave right now, I just want to be alone. I thought he was here because he loved me. But I was wrong. That isn't why he is here at all. Even after I was seriously injured in a car accident...he's not really here for _me_. He's here to take care of the paperwork. An inconvenience, a task to mark off his list.

I have never felt smaller than I do in this moment.

* * *

 _ **FOUR**_

* * *

This day feels endless...and it's only lunch.

First, Chemistry was more boring than usual with Zeke's seat empty and Marlene uncharacteristically sullen. Class went by uneventfully, a boring lecture and no lab work today.

The day's first real annoyance began when I tried to leave class: Maria stopped me, demanding to know where Zeke was and why he hadn't texted her since running out early on their date. Maria knew Uriah had been in an accident, hell, it seems half the school already knows. She's just _that_ self-centered.

The morning only got worse in third period. Ms. Keene moved Peter away from Drew in the first five minutes. Of course she sent him to my desk cluster; without Tris here, I was the only one sitting there, the other three desks vacant. Peter spent the whole class period making little digs about anything and everything he could think of, obviously trying to find the right topic to get under my skin. The ones that really did piss me off involved Tris. I can only hope that I hid my anger well enough. All I could think of was what Uriah had told me about Peter's history with Tris.

At least Peter is unlikely to do anything more than make nasty comments. Ever since that night I helped Uriah with his dare and he left Peter's detention slip on Ms. Matthew's floor, Matthews has watched Peter like a hawk. She's just waiting for him to slip up. As a result, Peter has been on his best behavior and has not done anything that could justify Matthews giving him any more than a simple detention.

It was like I couldn't take a step all morning without someone pestering me; Lauren flagged me down on the way to Economics needing help carrying her books. She'll be on crutches for the next eight weeks, thanks to her broken ankle.

The group is quiet as we gather in our dead-end hallway. I never knew how much quieter it would be without the Pedrad twins here. It's not just their and Tris's absence, though; it is the somber mood that has settled over all of us. The space feels empty.

The group feels small with only seven of our usual ten, and it takes a minute for me to realize that this is it, we're all here. I clear my throat.

"Hey guys… I told Tris I would get her homework for her, but―"

"Wait, you saw her?!" Christina squeals. I nod. "Caleb wouldn't let any of us in to see her."

"He was out of the room taking a call when I went by. Anyway, I'm only in like three of her classes. I forgot to ask for her schedule but I figure at least one of us is in all of her classes probably. She said she has to stay out of school for at least this whole week."

"Oh no," Christina gasps. "But she's already so far behind!"

"Christina!" Will hisses. "Think before you speak!"

"What? You said―"

"I didn't say you could tell anyone."

"You didn't say not to."

"Didn't think I had to."

"Well, whatever," she shrugs, unphased. "I have Art and Psychology with Tris, and I know Will is in her Physics class." Will glares at his girlfriend.

We quickly work out that between Will, Christina and I, we can get Tris's homework for everything but first period. Marlene tells us that Tris and Uriah had U.S. History with Ms. Keene first period, so I volunteer to get that as well, since I have the same teacher the following hour.

Shauna points out that we need to look out for Zeke as well, and volunteers to bring his homework and spend some time with him at the hospital each day until he's back to school as well. The others all volunteer to do various things to help out, like bringing food to Hana and Zeke, or bringing Tris some of her favorite books, magazines and movies. Al volunteered to rake leaves and cut the grass at Tris's house.

When everyone get up to head to class at the end of lunch, I ask Will to wait for a moment. He hangs back, and when we are the only ones left in the hallway, I ask, "What was Christina saying, about Tris being behind in school?"

Will glances away from me and sighs. "Tris asked me to tutor her in Physics and math. She said she's way behind in her classes and needs to get her grades up. I told her I could help with Physics but I don't have time to get her up to speed in Trig as well. I wish I did, especially now."

I had offered to help Tris in math class before, but she insisted that she understood the material. "Tris is in my math class. I've got it covered," I assure him. "I'll plan on sticking around for a while to help her when I drop the homework off."

Will looks relieved, then worried again. "I don't want her to know I told you. I only told Christina because I was going to be helping Tris a few nights a week and didn't want her to think something else was going on with Tris and me, I didn't think she'd just blurt it out." I'm not surprised that Christina would do that, but saying so won't make Will feel any better about it, and he did just help me out.

The warning bell rings. "Thanks for your help, man," I say, giving him a fist bump.

Will nods at me and I hurry to Spanish class.

* * *

I'm really only pretending to do my homework. It just means I'll be stuck doing this longer when I get home, but I can't help it―I just can't concentrate when I am alone in a room with Tris. I keep watching her out of the corner of my eye.

I brought her the homework I had gathered from all our friends as soon as football practice ended. Remembering what Christina and Will had said earlier, I casually asked to stay and keep her company while I started my homework. She was too surprised to say no, and hesitantly pulled out the assignments I had brought her soon after I opened my Economics textbook. Now I'm still staring at the textbook while Tris chews on her pencil and studies her Trigonometry textbook with her face scrunched and forehead wrinkled.

I know she doesn't get it. But after Will's concern at school today, I'm hesitant to say anything about it. I stare at my textbook so hard the words blur, trying to figure out how to offer to help.

"Do you want help with the math lesson? You look lost." I cringe inside at my own words as I watch Tris lower her eyes and her cheeks flush. I have a tendency to somehow come off as rude, no matter how good my intentions. "I, um… well, you weren't there in class and it's probably hard to pick up just from the textbook. At least look at my notes," I ramble, flipping through my math notebook to find the notes from today's lesson.

Tris chews on her lower lip. After taking a deep breath, she nods. "Actually, you're right, I'm completely lost and… um… I'm a little behind as it is. I―I'd really appreciate some help, I need to get my grades up and being stuck in the hospital is not helping anything."

I smile and try to hide my relief at not having to be the one to bring it up. Closing my economics textbook and setting it on the floor by my feet, I pull out everything I need for math homework and set myself up right next to the bed.

At first the logistics are awkward, the bed is too high to comfortably help her when I'm sitting in the chair, but when I stand I have to lean halfway over. The whole time, Tris has this amused smirk that keeps trying to break through. Finally when I have to stop in the middle of solving a math problem to stretch out the crick developing in my back, Tris lets a chuckle escape.

"Uncomfortable?" she asks.

"I'm good," I assure her. "It's fine."

Tris rolls her eyes and wiggles herself to one side of the bed. "Plenty of room for two."

I freeze for a second. The bed may be big enough for two to sit in, but only if we are pressed closely together, like we were when she leaned into me watching _The Great Gatsby_ for our English assignment. And I remember how it affected me that time; I don't remember at least the last half-hour of the movie. The rush of adrenaline and anticipation that courses through me just at the thought is both exhilarating and terrifying, and it only intensifies once I am seated in the bed beside her. The pressure of her shoulder against my side, her hip against my own makes my blood rush with energy everywhere we make contact.

I clear my throat and prepare to explain today's lesson from the middle of chapter four, but Tris is thumbing through her notebook. My eyes widen when I see that she has pulled out an old test from chapter two, my eyes drawn to the bold red "D" marked on the top right corner of the margin. I had no idea she was _this_ far behind. Why did she wait so long to ask for help?

Tris sighs. "I think I have some catching up to do. I've, um, had trouble concentrating lately. Can you teach me?"

I slowly nod. She definitely does have some catching up to do. It will take a lot more than a few evenings after football practice, but I know I'll help her for as long as she needs. And my excitement and happiness anticipating all the time I will get to spend with her is just barely overshadowed by the guilt I feel, knowing that I owe some loyalty to my best friend and his twin brother who is currently unconscious in the ICU a few floors above us, fighting for his life.


	27. Chapter 27

_It's been a really long time since I updated this, I'm so very sorry! I knew what I wanted to write, but every time I sat down to try and write it, the words wouldn't come to me. Then I'd get frustrated with it and set it aside for another time, and each time I got a little more frustrated and waited a bit longer than I had before, before trying again. But I finally managed to write the whole chapter. Crossing my fingers that I'm past whatever writer's block got ahold of me. Thanks for your patience._

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

* * *

 _ **TRIS**_

* * *

On Wednesday, my fourth day in the hospital, I am finally allowed to travel upstairs to the ICU and see Uriah. Yesterday I had begged and pleaded but I had already admitted to too high a pain level. Today I had learned my lesson and downplayed my discomfort. I grit my teeth to hide the searing pain in my ribcage and persistent pounding in my head as we ride the elevator to the ninth floor, but relax a little when we reach Uriah's room and she hands me off to Zeke. He promises to help me back to my room later, and the nurse returns to her post.

Hana updates me on Uriah's condition: the swelling in his brain has decreased considerably and they are talking about weaning him off the sedatives which are currently keeping him in a sort of medically induced coma so that his brain and body can heal. His body is healing as expected, but the brain trauma is the big concern right now. They are unsure whether he will wake up with brain damage, or even whether he will wake up when they stop the sedatives.

The whole time, my eyes are glued to the cuts and stitches contrasting against Uriah's swollen, uncharacteristically pale skin. From the casted, elevated leg and the bandages wrapped around his head, to the rhythmic spikes on the heart monitor and the respirator obscuring his face.

To how unnaturally still Uriah is. He has always been so full of life, but now, he's right there in front of me… but it's like he's empty.

"How are you recovering, Tris?" Hana asks. She and Zeke have each made a short visit to my room once each day so far, even though I told them to stay here with Uriah and not to worry about me.

"A lot better. Hardly hurts now," I lie. Hana has enough to worry about, without me adding to it. Zeke narrows his eyes, he's not fooled. "They told me I'll be discharged tomorrow. I'll be out of school a little longer. And obviously, no cheerleading for a while." The respirator whooshes in the background and my eyes burn with tears. "I was lucky."

"Thank the Lord for that," Hana says with a soft smile. We sit in silence for a moment, I guess even Zeke is worn down enough to stall his usual chatter. I wonder if Shauna has to just talk his ear off when she visits; I know she has been spending a lot of time here with him after school.

After a few minutes, Zeke decides to go down to the cafeteria for some lunch. Hana goes with him, telling me that she should give me some time alone with Uriah.

"Uh, hi," I say in a small voice after a while of awkwardly staring at my unconscious best friend. I scoot my chair a little closer and take his hand in mine, but it's awkward with me being on his right side and only having my own right hand free due to the cast on my left.

The hand holding is a lot less awkward than my attempt to talk to my ex-boyfriend. What do you say to someone who isn't even awake to hear you?

"Uh, I've been here at the hospital for four days. They say I can probably go home tomorrow. Zeke's going to give me a ride home. Hope you don't mind me stealing him away for an hour or so. I'm totally screwed when it comes to school. Will and Four are tutoring me but still... " I shake my head. "You were right about all that, you know. You were right, trying to get me to pay more attention to studying and all that crap. I'm so far behind now and Dad is so pissed.

"He was here, you know. Dad was. Yelled at me, of course. He only came to do the paperwork. The whole weekend, Caleb sat there like he was my prison guard or something. Chased all our friends away. God, sometimes I just hate my family. Even though I love them and I want them to love me. But you know what, Uri?" I stare at him as if he's going to respond but he doesn't move, not the tiniest muscle, and all I hear is the the white noise of a whooshing respirator and beeping heart monitor and the hum of machines that do who knows what to keep Uriah alive.

I sigh. This is just weird, talking to him and watching him while he's… sleeping. Sleeping is a nicer way to think of it.

"Never mind," I whisper.

I sit there in silence for a minute. If I thought talking was awkward, the relative silence is somehow worse.

"Your mom says they're gonna start trying to take you off the sedatives," I say when I can't take it anymore. "So, when they do that, you're gonna wake up for us, right? I'm kinda counting on it, you know. If I had just let you stay and talk things out, we wouldn't have…"

I sniff loudly and swipe the tears away from my cheeks. "Damn it, Uriah," I whisper. "I miss you. Wake up soon, okay?"

* * *

I was seven years old the first time I broke a bone. It was a fracture in my right leg, caused by a fall from high up in a tree. Mom brought me breakfast in bed in the mornings, Caleb played board games with me to stave off the boredom of being unable to run and play, and Dad carried me up the stairs to bed every night. They all took care of me and made me feel better, even though I was breaking the rules by climbing so high up in that tree in the first place.

My family isn't here to take care of me any more.

But when I first lost my family, my friends stepped up and took their place. But a week ago, I was feeling so alone. When things changed ― really, truly changed ― between me and Uriah I didn't even know where I stood with my friends. But here those same people are, still taking care of me. Zeke took me home from the hospital yesterday, early in the afternoon. Someone had stocked my kitchen with snacks and cut the grass in the front lawn.

And best of all, Four has been here helping me study. He brought my homework every night in the hospital and stayed to explain whatever I needed and tutor me for math, and he came over last night as well. It was the bright spot in my day. Though his presence might have been more distraction than help last night; we had gotten used to sitting close together in my small hospital bed, so I suppose it came naturally for us to sit in the same way in my bedroom. Only, it wasn't a hospital room any more. Sitting on my bed, in my room, in my otherwise empty house felt considerably more...intimate. Still, nothing more came of it than a few lingering touches on each other's leg or arm, and, at the end of the night, a hug that felt a little too long to be strictly platonic.

Unless that's just wishful thinking. I told him that I regretted rejecting him that day by the river, and we almost kissed last weekend before Caleb interrupted us. I thought maybe Four just wanted to wait until we were somewhere more private than the hospital but we were alone for hours last night and… nothing. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he doesn't really like me that way at all. Maybe one of the other girls at school has caught his eye since I've been away. He could certainly have his pick; he could do much better than me. Someone prettier, someone smarter. Someone who isn't such a mess.

I check the freezer for ice cream, rummaging under bags of frozen veggies and a boxed lasagna hoping to find some hiding somewhere, but there is none. And I'm not allowed to drive yet, so ice cream isn't gonna happen tonight. Which really sucks, because it's lonely being here by myself so much, and it has only been two days. Will came by this afternoon to tutor me for physics class, but he is the only real live person I have seen all day, though I did get a few texts from friends. Four couldn't come by to work on math today because he had an away game across town tonight. All my friends will be on their way to the post-game party by now. I can't go. I'm supposed to be in bed, resting.

With a sigh, I settle for a granola bar to sate my sweet tooth (though I know it really won't) and begin to walk back up to my bedroom for a date with my Netflix account. It's ironic; the past few weeks I have skipped the parties by choice, and now that I really can't go, I want nothing more than to be with my friends, drinking and dancing and maybe helping with a dare.

I settle into the pillows with a heating pad positioned in just the right spot to soothe my injured muscles, fresh ice packs waiting nearby to follow it up with, and start the next episode of Stranger Things. I prop my Spanish homework on my knees ― that's one class that I can catch up on without anyone's help, but I have put it off all week ― when I've finally found a comfortable position.

The show is barely past the opening credits when I hear a loud knocking, then the door swinging open and footsteps echoing from the tile floor downstairs. I groan, no doubt it's Caleb checking up to make sure I do as I'm told. And I'm sure he'd love nothing more than to snitch on me if he found that I wasn't home. Guess it's a good thing I didn't ignore the doctor's orders and go to that party anyway. Then again, who's to say that Dad would even care? As far as I know, he's written me off completely now. It almost makes me wish I _had_ gone to that party tonight, wherever it's being held (since it's certainly neither here nor at the Pedrads') just so I could find out for sure.

I hear movement in the kitchen and turn my attention back to my assignment. I am not moving from my comfortable position in bed for my goody-two-shoes brother. So I just go on as if he doesn't exist, even as I hear his footsteps on the stairs. That is, until I hear him call my name.

"Tris?"

I sit straight up, stiffening at the jolt of pain that shoots through me from the abrupt movement. Because that didn't quite sound like Caleb ― the voice is deeper, richer. And Caleb wouldn't have called me Tris. He's always calling me Beatrice, even though I hate it.

"Tris?" the rich, sexy voice calls again, and butterflies take residence in my stomach and a smile breaks out on my face. This time I am sure I know who it is. I can't believe he's here.

"In my room, Four!" I shout back.

I start to get up, but am slowed down by the protesting twinges of pain in my ribs when I move in the wrong ways. My feet have just touched the floor when Four strides into the room, a pizza box balanced on one hand and a large canvas tote hanging from the other. "No, no, don't get up!" Four protests. He quickly sets everything down on the foot of my bed and rushes to my side.

I roll my eyes. "I'm fine." He narrows his eyes for a moment, then with a curt nod, goes back to the foot of the bed to dig into his canvas bag.

"Don't take this the wrong way," I say as he pulls out two paper plates and puts a couple slices of pizza on each, "but… what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at a party right now?"

After a moment of hesitation, he says, "How much of a party can it really be without the Pedrads?" Then, quieter, he adds, "Besides, I didn't like the idea of you sitting here all alone." He doesn't look at me as he hands me a soda and my plate of pizza

A few possible responses run through my head, but mostly they're flirty ones that I can imagine coming out of Lauren's mouth. So I smile and pat the spot next to me on my bed in silent invitation.

I let Four lean back against the pillows propped against the headboard before I get comfortable myself. In a split second decision, I position myself right up against his side. It's like the way we sat in the hospital bed, the way we sat while studying yesterday, but somehow… different. I hold my breath dreading his reaction, waiting for his rejection.

But it doesn't come. For a second I think it really will when he tenses, but a second later he relaxes and wriggles his arm behind me until it is wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me more snugly against him, and I feel weightless.

When the episode ends almost an hour later I have decided that I don't ever want either of us to move from this spot, ever. I love the way I fit against his side, I love how being so near him warms me just enough, I love the tingle of electricity that hums through me, radiating outward from any place we touch. So, I'm very disappointed when he takes his arm back and begins to sit up.

"Hey," I whine, "I was comfortable."

Four flashes me an impish grin. "Oh, I think this will be worth it. Stay right there." He hops up from the bed and dashes out of the room. Only about a minute later he is back, but not empty handed: he's carrying two bowls, two spoons, and a tub of chocolate ice cream ― the kind with ribbons of fudge and little chocolate truffles in it. The kind I remember mentioning, weeks ago, is my favorite.

I let out a squeal of delight that earns a wide smile from Four as he passes me the ice cream. "Wait, there's more," he says. I watch him look into the canvas bag again as I open the ice cream carton. He pulls out a bag of chocolate chip cookies and puts a few on a paper plate. I smile even bigger when he sits down again on the bed and I see them up close.

"Homemade?" I ask in surprise. "I haven't had homemade cookies in a long time. Never seem to get around to it." I grab one and take a bite, and close my eyes involuntarily and let out a rather embarrassing little moan. They're soft but not too soft, just the right texture and blend of flavors. "These are amazing, Four."

"Thanks," he says, almost looking shy.

I raise my eyebrows. "Did you make them?" He nods sheepishly. "I didn't know you could bake! Did your mom teach you?"

He shrugs. "I guess. Sort of." He begins scooping ice cream into the two bowls. "I mean… she let me help measure flour and stuff a couple times when I was a kid. But, I don't know… I was 10 when she left. We had a housekeeper who did most of the cooking but Marcus ― my father ― he didn't want staff around all the time. Liked his privacy, I guess you could say. So as soon as Mom left, cooking was my responsibility, whenever Mary had time off. Cookie baking wasn't really involved, but they're not too complicated." He frowns and stabs at his ice cream, then slowly eats a bite. "Marcus doesn't tolerate anything less than perfection. I learned very quickly to follow a recipe, and follow it well," he says darkly.

I let his words sink into me, thinking about my relationship with my own father. "Do all dads suck?" I wonder aloud. "Mine just left me to take care of myself, after Mom died. I think he officially wrote me off the other day." Four raises an eyebrow, and I just shrug. "I've realized that the reason I'm in this mess at school, it was my pathetic attempt to get my dad to pay attention to me. And it kind of worked I guess. It got him to call and yell at me a couple times. At least that's something. But when that didn't work he just gave up, like I wasn't worth the hassle. A problem he's sick of dealing with. The only thing that came out of it was that I've probably seriously limited my options when I apply for college next year. I don't know if I'll ever catch up at this point, honestly."

It's like the words have just spilled out of my mouth before I had time to think them through, and I freeze. But Four shared a bit of himself with me and I could see it wasn't easy. And somehow, that makes it so easy to share a bit of what I have been keeping inside, too. But it's scary, makes my stomach knot up, because what if he sees me differently?

Four looks thoughtful for a moment, then shakes his head and says, "First of all, Tris, I have no doubt that you'll catch up in no time. I've wondered how you fell so far behind because you're so smart, Tris. You're already halfway there in math and it hasn't even been a week. As for your dad…" Four takes a deep breath "he doesn't deserve you if that's really what he sees. He's missing out, you know."

My cheeks warm and I fight back all the arguments that crowd my mind and watch Four's face, seeing nothing but sincerity. I don't quite understand what exactly Four sees in me, but my heart leaps at the idea that he really thinks that.

* * *

After a little chatter (now sticking to lighter topics), another episode of Stranger Things, and too many cookies and scoops of ice cream, my eyelids are beginning to get heavy. I quickly wake when I feel Four shifting and trying to lay me back on my pillows, and I sit up and rub my eyes.

"I was trying not to wake you," Four apologizes. "My mom is off at 2 tonight, and I should be home before she gets there." I glance at the digital clock on my bedside table and am surprised to find that it's already 1:30 AM.

"I'll walk you out," I offer. He starts to protest but I interrupt him. "There are a few things I need to do before I go to sleep anyway," I say, thinking of the laundry that will soon begin to mildew in the washing machine, the pain medicine I should take before bed, and the doors that need to be locked behind Four when he leaves.

We gather up the dishes, trash and food, and Four slings the canvas bag over his shoulder. We walk slowly down the hall and stairs and into the kitchen. While I put away the ice cream, Four loads the dishwasher and insists on leaving the rest of the cookies with me. And then, even though I really don't want him to go and leave me here all alone again, I paste on a smile and walk him to the side door.

We stand at the door and Four turns to face me. "What are you doing tomorrow?" he asks.

"I need to go see Uriah at some point," I tell him, "and then Christina wants to have this whole 'girls' night' thing. I'm sure it will be chick flicks and facials and ugh." I screw up my face in annoyance and Four chuckles.

"Maybe…" he glances away for a moment then resolutely looks me in the eyes again. "Could we hang out on Sunday, do you think? Maybe, uh, work on homework for a while then… I don't know, maybe do something fun? I know you're still hurt so I mean, maybe just grab some dinner and go to a movie, or hang out here...whatever you feel like."

I bite my lip. "That sounds almost like a date, Four."

He scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, uh… yes. That's exactly what I was hoping it might be? Unless, I mean, if you don't want it to be―"

"No, I do. I want it to be."

Four's awkwardness melts away and is replaced with a wide grin, and I smile back. "Okay, then. It's a date." The way he's looking at me, I can tell is making me blush, and I know he's seen it when he gets this smug look of satisfaction.

"Goodnight, Four," I say, holding back a wince at how breathy my voice sounds.

Four stands a little closer to me and my heart races when I see him begin to lean in. He rests his hand on my back with a gentle pressure to draw me a bit nearer and I raise onto my toes to meet him halfway.

His lips are softer than I expected and I can still taste the chocolate ice cream on them. The kiss is fairly chaste, but slow and lingering. His fingers trail lightly across my shoulder and down my arm as he pulls away.

"Goodnight, Tris," he says with a shy smile, then he turns and walks out the door. I watch him glance back once as he walks away before I close the door and turn the deadbolt before leaning my forehead against the door, smiling like an idiot.

So he does like me after all. And even better, I've got a date with Four Eaton.


	28. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**

* * *

 ** _ **TRIS**_**

* * *

The next day, I drive myself to the hospital, only fudging the doctor's recommendation by a couple of days. It's not like I have parents around to get me where I need to go, and I can get by without the prescription pain medications that could impair my judgment..

I enter Uriah's room in the ICU to see him looking much the same as before. Some of the bruises have begun to fade from the deep blues and purples to greens and browns and yellows, and some of the bandages are missing, showing crusted scabs over black stitches, but in all the important ways, he is unchanged.

With a weight in my stomach, I force on a smile and call out a greeting to the other occupants of the room: Zeke and Shauna are sitting much closer than necessary on the window seat and Hana was zoned out in the chair beside Uriah's bed.

"Hey, Tris," Zeke grimaces as he gets up, and the muscles forcing my mouth into a smile seem to quiver from exertion. It's just too forced.

I walk over to Uriah and touch his hand, muttering a soft "hello" before turning to Hana and taking her hand. "How is he?" I ask. "Weren't they planning to wean him from the sedatives?"

"Honey," Hana says. Her watery eyes and deep, slow, steadying breath tell me it's bad news even before she continues. "They have. They cut them completely last night, but…"

I feel so heavy I could fall right through the floor. "But he― he hasn't woken up." I swallow hard and try to blink back the tears gathering in my eyes. "So, what does that mean? What now?"

Hana squeezes my hand and shakes her head. "We don't know. It's all up to him now. We just have to hope that given some more time, his brain will heal and he will come back to us."

"And," I take a steadying breath, "do they think…"

"They say it's a 50/50 chance," Zeke says, resting his arm gently around my shoulders― why is he comforting _me_? I should be the one comforting him. This is my fault. I don't dare say that to him, but I think we all know it really is; I was the one driving. I was the one who didn't see the other car coming at us. "But, it's Uriah. He's got way too much left to do, so many pranks left to pull. He'll wake up, Tris."

I force another watery smile and try to make myself believe him.

* * *

The dreaded 'girls' night in' is that night. With my recent head injury, alcohol l isn't an option to dull the tedium of the DIY spa night, so I am beyond grateful that Lynn actually showed up this time. Christina, Marlene and Shauna love this kind of shit, but Lynn and I don't, so we silently mock the girly-girls to one another whenever their backs are turned. Shauna catches us once and glares, but we know she doesn't mean it, just like we don't. Mostly.

"So, Tris," Christina says as she paints my toenails blue, "you have yet to really explain. What happened with you and Uriah?"

I tense. "What do you mean?"

"Shauna kept insisting I be patient, but it's been weeks and you haven't told us much about the break-up. Usually you guys make up faster than this. Must have been a big fight this time, what happened?"

"Do you really think she wants to talk about that right now?" Marlene hisses, her eyes closed. Thank God for Marlene.

"He'll wake up soon," Christina retorts.

"We're not making up," I protest. Christina gapes at me. "Seriously, Chris. The rest of it is no one's business but Uriah's and mine. But Uriah and me are over."

Christina stares me down as she screws the top back on the nail polish. "So, what," she finally says, "when Uriah finally wakes up, you're just abandoning him?"

"Christina!" Shauna sighs, sounding weary while I just stare at her with a sick feeling in my stomach.

"At least she shows up to see him," Lynn hisses, eyes flashing with anger.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Christina snaps.

"You haven't been there since that first day!" Lynn shouts.

Christina huffs. "He's unconscious. He doesn't know the difference, Lynn."

"Sure, and yet, Tris still shows up!"

"Which will make him all the more confused when he wakes up, won't it?"

"Stop it!" Marlene yells, crossing the room and wrapping an arm around my shoulders as I bite my cheek to hold back tears. She takes a deep breath. "This situation hasn't been easy for anyone, least of all Tris, and these kinds of accusations don't help. I think the fact that she's been in to see him as often as she can proves she'll be there for him. You may not see the point in visiting Uriah while he's unconscious, Christina, but Tris is right here. You can at least be supportive to her."

With pursed lips and an impassive expression on her face, Christina gives a curt nod. But as soon as my nails are dry, I accept when Lynn offers to take me home early.

* * *

Four and I have finished studying math, I can't believe I am almost all caught up. I finish putting all my books into my backpack and zip it up before turning to him. My stomach is doing flips; doing homework together is normal now, but what comes next is new territory. It is time for our date. I'm a little nervous, because I have been thinking since I was with the girls yesterday and I need to talk to him about something.

"So, what are we doing now?" I ask him.

Four shakes his head. "Not telling. It's more fun if it's a surprise."

I narrow my eyes at him, then decide to go with it. "Fine." I glance down at my leggings, tank top, long cardigan and black boots. "But I don't know what to wear if you don't tell me what we're doing."

Four looks me over slowly. His ears turn pink when his eyes finally return to my face and he sees my raised eyebrows. "You-you look fine," he stammers.

"Fine?" I tease.

"Uh, well," he stumbles, "what I mean is, um…" He takes a deep breath and steps closer, then he leans down and his breath brushes my ear. "You look good, Tris." He takes my hand and I let him lead me out of my room and downstairs.

"Need to take any pain meds?" he asks with concern in his eyes once we reach the kitchen.

I shake my head. "I'm okay for now."

"Maybe you should bring it with you just in case?"

I sigh and nod before grabbing the prescription medication and tucking it into my purse. I have a small bottle of ibuprofen in there too, which I'm hoping will be enough to get me by. My pain has decreased a lot over the weekend and I'm supposed to return to school tomorrow. Four reminds me to bring a warm coat and head out to his car.

Our first stop was an outdoor type store. We weren't able to get everything we needed so next we went to a paintball store, then we swung by Peter's house. Four had been given the latest dare and I have to admit that as much as I now realize how wrong our dares can go, I've missed this sort of fun. I know that his family goes out to dinner every Sunday night, his mom was always big on Sunday being "family day." And since he parks at the side of the house, it's easy enough to avoid being noticed by neighbors.

I was in charge of setting up a hidden camera while Four duct taped a smoke bomb under Peter's car. Four tied one end of a length of fishing line to the smoke grenade pin and I carefully routed it to a sprinkler head near the driveway. We don't want anyone tripping on the line before Peter drives his car again.

We barely make it away from Peter's house in time; I notice his mother's car pass us as we leave his neighborhood.

"You still doing alright?" Four asks.

I sigh. "I'm fine, Four. Stop worrying so much, we're supposed to be having fun."

"Who said I wasn't having fun?" Four asks, smiling and lacing our fingers together where they rest between the seats. "I just want to make sure you have fun, too, you know. And you won't have fun if you're in pain because you wait too long to take something. Keeping up with your pain meds will help you heal faster, too."

"You know a lot about this," I observe.

Four hesitates. "Uh, yeah, well… you know… football injuries," he says quietly, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Fine," I huff, "I could maybe use another couple of Advil soon." But he's so cute, all concerned about me, I know we can both hear the smile in my voice. "But I'd like to eat something first."

"Point," he concedes. Hear the rhythmic clicking of his turn signal. "We'll have to do something about that, then."

The night is chilly, but the sky is clear. Four has taken us to my spot by the river and we sit on a rock sharing a simple picnic of turkey sandwiches, chips and fruit salad, and chocolate cake for dessert. After we have eaten and I've taken my Advil, we lay back on the picnic blanket looking up at the night sky.

We talk about camping ― he has never been, guess it isn't his dad's kind of vacation, and I tell him about some of the camping trips the gang has gone on in the last few summers. Here in the city, it's so hard to see the stars with them obscured by the bright lights.

As it gets later I know we will have to go home soon and there is something I have put off talking to him about all night. But still I put it off. And soon enough he is pulling into my driveway and then walking me to the kitchen door.

I slip my key into the keyhole and turn the knob. With the door open only a few inches, I turn to Four. "Come in for a minute."

Four smiles nervously and scratches the back of his neck. "Okay."

We come into the house and he pulls the door shut behind him. I set my purse on the table. When I turn back to him he pulls me closer with his hand at the small of my back. We just look at each other for a moment before he leans down to kiss me softly, then we go back in for another, longer, deeper kiss.

When we pull back again, I take a step back. "Look, um, I had a great time with you tonight."

"Me too."

"Yeah?"

Four smiles. "Yeah."

I chew on my lip. I can't wait any longer, I have to talk to him before we go back to school tomorrow. "Look, Four, we need to talk."

The smile drops from Four's face. He runs his fingers through his hair and I see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. "Tris…" He almost sounds pleading. "Is this about Uriah?"

"Yes," I answer honestly. Four lets out a defeated sigh. "Just ― will you just listen for a minute?"

He looks off to the side for a minute then nods. "Yeah. Okay."

I lead Four down to the TV room in the basement and we sit on the couch. I take a deep breath. "I really like you, Four. I just, um… Uriah and I were together a long time and now he's…" Four looks down and nods. "I just… can we keep this, this thing between us, can we keep it quiet for a bit?" Four finally looks up at me and I can't read the look in his eyes. "I just ― if I can, I'd like to tell him myself. Before anyone else knows. Even if he and I weren't really okay before the accident, he's been one of my best friends for so long…"

"But ―" Four interrupts. "But you still want to go out with me?"

"Yeah, of course. And it's not that I don't want people to know about us, I just think I owe this much to Uriah."

Four's shoulders relax. "That's fair," he says. "I can deal with that. So long as you still want to do," he gestures between us, "this. Us."

In response, I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull him down for another kiss.


	29. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**

* * *

 ** _ **FOUR**_**

* * *

I usually hate Mondays, but today I am feeling much happier than usual. For one thing, Zeke is back at school; Hana refused to let him continue missing his classes when it could easily be months waiting for Uriah to wake up. No one is saying it aloud, but the truth is, he may never wake up. No one really knows for sure.

That's the thing that makes me nervous about Tris's request to keep this thing between us quiet for now. Eventually it will come out whether we are ready or not, and I don't really like hiding it in the first place. But for now, it is a reasonable request and I would honestly feel better if Uriah knew before the rest of the world as well.

Even so, Tris is the main reason for my good mood; I haven't seen her yet this morning but I know I will at math class in about three minutes. Plus, tonight she agreed to come with me to Peter's for that hidden camera. The gang has been passing it around for dares, for years. I can't wait to see the footage. I hope it's angled the right way to catch Peter's reaction; I can't imagine that he will have made it far down the street before noticing the smoke that appears to be coming from his engine.

When I see Lauren fifty feet ahead of me, I duck down a hallway to take a longer route to my class. She is on crutches for that broken ankle and every time I pass her she ropes me into carrying her books. She insists on making small talk with me every single time. I hate small talk. I love that Tris doesn't insist on filling every silence with meaningless chatter.

I'm hardly looking where I'm going, too lost in thought, and am startled when I hear the deep growl of, "You!"

My head snaps up and I see Peter flying toward me. I try to dodge him but the hallway is too crowded and my movement is stopped by a group of girls walking right next to me. Peter knocks over a scrawny guy in glasses but by the time I have regained my balance, he is coming toward me again.

I duck the next punch. I learned a long time ago that even if I am only defending myself, any retaliation might get me into trouble with the school faculty and when Marcus gets wind of it, I'll be very, very sorry. Even so, soon enough I'm sick of trying to avoid Peter's attack. The other students in the hall have formed a circle around us, cheering and shouting.

Peter comes at me tirelessly, fueled by anger and adrenaline and finally I fight back. For a few moments we trade punches and by the time a teacher breaks through the thick crowd of students to break us up, I have Peter pinned to the floor.

I mentally curse all the way to the principal's office, dreading whatever consequences are waiting for me.

* * *

Ms. Matthews is sitting at her desk when the school nurse leads us into her office. We were kept separated while the nurse fixed us up; all I really had was a bruised jaw and knuckles; Peter has a split lip and black eye, and definitely appears to be favoring his right arm. Seeing the severe look on Ms. Matthews face, I am guessing that the teacher that broke us up, Mr. Delgado, filled her in about our fight.

"Sit," Ms. Matthews commands. There are two chairs for me and Peter, sat right next to each other. I glance at him as I move for the chair and he glares at me. I scowl back.

Apparently we are taking too long, because Ms. Matthews repeats herself. " _Sit."_

Peter and I drop into the chairs and scoot them further away from each other, so we're each at a corner of the desk. I can feel him glaring at me. I don't gratify him with a glare back.

Ms. Matthews stares us down with her chin on her steepled fingers. Then she pushes a paper toward each of us and leans back in her chair.

"When you began the year here, each of you signed an agreement to abide by the rules of this school and acknowledgement that you read the student handbook and are aware of student expectations." I look down and see that she has actually pulled out the agreements each of us signed, as if we were going to dispute being aware that fighting was not allowed. "Can either of you tell me what that handbook said about engaging in physical altercations?"

"Not to," Peter mumbles. He's sitting there with his arms crossed over his chest, pouting, like a child.

Ms. Matthews looks at me, but I have nothing to add, so she proceeds to pull out the student handbook. She consults the table of contents and thumbs through the pages before highlighting a section and handing it to me. She nods at me and I realize I am supposed to read it aloud.

"A student shall not intentionally cause or attempt to cause physical injury or intentionally behave in such a way as could reasonably cause physical injury to any person. Any student involved in fighting or promoting fighting shall be subject to disciplinary action, including dismissal from campus," I read. "Assault or fighting is defined as a verbal or physical altercation causing a disruption of the educational process. Students should not move toward fights but should seek ways to avoid fights. A mob fight is defined as a fight in which two or more students fight against another student. Students who participate in mob fights face dismissal."

Peter rolls his eyes, catching Ms. Matthews' attention. She clears her throat. "Mr. Hayes," she clips, "Witnesses have said they believe it was you who attacked first. Were you provoked in some way?"

"Yes," Peter spits. He points a finger at me as he whines, "He put a smoke bomb under my car! I thought my engine was blowing up or something. And I've got a date this weekend and my car's gonna smell like smoke for weeks!"

"No I didn't," I lie, rolling my eyes and trying to sound bored.

"Yes you did," he spits. "I saw you driving near my house last night."

"Did this happen on school property, Peter?" she asks, pinching the bridge of her nose like she is trying to stave off a headache.

"No," he pouts. "It went off when I pulled out of my driveway this morning."

I hear the door open and glance behind me to see that Coach Amar has come into the room. When the door closes, he leans against it with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Then your vehicle is none of my concern, Mr. Hayes," she says sharply. "Keep the disruptions off of school grounds." She turns to me. "Mr. Eaton, what do you have to say for yourself?"

I clear my throat. "I'm sorry that I hit him back, Ms. Matthews. I was not looking for a fight, he just attacked me out of nowhere. I dodged him as long as I could, but eventually I had to defend myself. I didn't do anything to him but take his first string spot on the football team. He's just jealous." Next to me, Peter grits his teeth. We both know it's a lie, but he's crossed the line in the past without any reason. I'm not above bending the truth in this instance, not if it might keep my dad from getting wind of this.

Ms. Matthews stands and with a pointed look, says, "I trust that you two can be civil for a moment." She walks over to Coach but doesn't leave the room, so we both stay quiet as the two adults have a hushed discussion. Then she comes back to her chair and sits down.

"Mr. Hayes," she says with an exasperated sigh, "this is not the first major offense I have seen you for here only two months into the school year, and both times you have targeted Mr. Eaton. This school does not tolerate physical violence. It is an institution of learning, not a daycare, and we have no room for your sort of immaturity here. You are hereby suspended from school for one week, and from the football team for one month."

"You can't do that!" Peter bursts out, enraged. "There are scouts coming to these games."

"Perhaps you will think about that in the future. Now, Mr. Eaton," she turns to me, "witness accounts support your account of today's events, and your previously empty disciplinary file does work to your favor. For your role, you will serve two hours of detention and I will be contacting your parents."

"Thank you, ma'am," I say quickly, heart pounding. "Uh, will you be speaking to both of them? Or just my mom?" I hint, praying to every god that might exist that she have mercy on me.

Ms. Matthews waves her hand dismissively. "I see no reason to have the conversation twice. Your mother is the first contact." I stifle a relieved sigh. "But Mr. Eaton," she adds, narrowing her eyes at me, "do know that I am aware with whom you keep company." Somehow I am not surprised that my friendship with the Pedrads doesn't win me any brownie points. As much as I hate my father, he did warn me about that pitfall. "You are dismissed."

I hurry out of the room just as the bell rings. So much for seeing Tris at math class today.

* * *

I worry all day about whether Ms. Matthews was able to reach my mom on the first try, or if she will have moved down the contact list and called Marcus. I have to stay with him weekend after next, he'll have plenty of opportunity to make me sorry. And what's worse, it's my own fault. I'm not that surprised that Peter would react as he did once he figured out it was me, and with Uriah in a coma and Zeke hardly leaving his bedside, I was the most likely culprit.

By the time I'm able to speak to my mom after football practice, my nerves are frayed. I am relieved by her assurances that yes, she did speak to Ms. Matthews, so my father shouldn't have received a call as well. I rest my forehead against the steering wheel for a minute. With a deep, cleansing breath, I start my car and smile thinking about my next stop: Tris's house to study together for tomorrow's Spanish test.

* * *

After eating dinner, Tris and I cuddle up on her bed with our Spanish books. She has made flashcards and I lean back into the pillows with her head on my chest and my arm around her shoulders as we take turns quizzing each other. After a while, Tris sets the cards next to her on the bed and twists her body to look up at me.

"I went by Peter's, right after school," she tells me. "Got that camera back. I thought it was better to go when I knew no one was home."

I lift my head to look at her. "In daylight? You sure that was a good idea? Someone might have seen you."

"I was careful," she says. My eyes are drawn to her lower lip, caught between her teeth. "So, that fight today. You didn't fight back at first."

I lay my head back. "Yeah."

"You're obviously a better fighter than him, and he's been a dick to you. I don't know, seemed like your opportunity. Couldn't have gotten in too much trouble when he started it."

"You'd be surprised," I say. She keeps her eyes on me, patiently waiting for me to explain. "At my last school, there was this guy, Eric. He was ― well, it was a lot like the situation with Peter; he was on top until I moved there, joined the team, bumped him back to second string. And he really hated me. At first he just tried to spread rumors and stuff like that. But then one day he started a fight with me and I fought back."

"What happened?" Tris asks, turning a bit and molding herself against my side. I absently run my fingers up and down her arm, the one without the cast on it.

"Eric was smarter than Peter, more manipulative. He managed to convince the principal that I provoked him in some way and I ended up in almost as much trouble as him. Suspended a couple days, benched a couple games." I shrug. "I was only a sophomore so not much worry about scouts watching me, but my dad… he was pissed. Not something I care to repeat."

"So you tried not to fight back even though Peter deserved it."

"Yeah." I clear my throat and change the subject. "So, you think we're ready for this test tomorrow, or can we find better things to do than study?"

Tris grins at me with a twinkle in her eye. "Oh, I think we're good. There are much more fun ways to spend the evening."

I grin back and pull her in for a kiss.


	30. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER THIRTY**

* * *

 ** _ **TRIS**_**

* * *

I find the secluded corner behind a trophy case in a dead-end hallway less than ten minutes before class is to start. Four found this spot yesterday, and I was supposed to meet him here to almost ten minutes ago. We don't want anyone to suspect that we have become more than friends, but haven't liked waiting until third period math class to see one another away from our friends' eyes, either.

"Kept me waiting," Four teases, leaning down to kiss me. "Good morning."

I take his hand and lean my opposite shoulder against the wall. "Morning. Yeah, sorry about that. Marlene stopped me in the hall." Four nods at me to continue. "She wants to sleep over at my house tomorrow night. Her parents are out of town this weekend and and I don't think she likes the idea of being alone in the house."

His face falls. "But we were going out tomorrow night," he pouts.

"I couldn't very well tell her that, though, could I?

"No, but you could have just said you were busy, like I did with Will yesterday."

I roll my eyes. "That would have been suspicious, I'm not usually all aloof and snappy like you sometimes are. Everyone may be used to you giving away nothing, but I've been friends with them since grade school, Four."

He sighs. "Yeah, that's true, I guess. Maybe I'll tell Will that my plans changed."

"That's a good idea. Besides, I wouldn't have felt right turning Marlene down, anyway. She's seemed… I don't know… not herself lately."

Four nods. "I've noticed, but Shauna said she's just taking it all really hard. She's just worried about Uriah."

"I know. We all are. So, maybe we can hang out Sunday, instead?"

"Sure." He grimaces hearing the warning bell. "Guess our time is up. Can I come over after the game tonight?"

"Course."

After a lingering kiss we part ways, him to Chemistry class with Zeke and Marlene and me to U.S. History where I will sit alone at the table I used to share with Uriah.

* * *

Ms. Graham makes her way around the room placing Wednesday's chapter tests face down on the desks. Four picks his up right away and I spy the red "28/30 - A" jotted in the top right corner. I, on the other hand, am holding my paper face down against the desk.

Four nudges my arm. "You gonna look at that?" I just bite my lip. "It's not going to jump off the desk if you let go of it, you know." He puts his hand on my knee under the desk and sighs. "Not seeing the grade won't change anything, Tris. I bet you did fine, you've been catching up."

"Not well enough for this test, Four," I say, shaking my head. I've turned in nearly all of my missing homework now, but I still feel a little shaky on my understanding of the last few chapters. And I really need to do well on this test and all the others upcoming; I can get partial credit with the late assignments, but Ms. Graham won't let me retake the tests I did poorly on.

Four gently moves my hand and slides the test paper out from under it, his eyes on mine the whole time. "Ready?" I sigh and he holds it out. "You got a B, that's great, Tris."

I sigh. He's being generous; it was really a B minus, I got 24 questions right out of 30. It's a lot better than the grades I've gotten earlier in the semester but I really need to be acing all my exams. It's just not good enough.

Four sees the look on my face and puts his finger under my chin, tilting my head up to look at him. "You can't expect to catch up on two months of material in less than two weeks, Tris. You were averaging a D before, this is an improvement. You'll get there. Talk to Ms. Graham again about extra credit, maybe she'll give you a little more leeway now that you had to miss so much school after the accident. I'm sure she can see that you're trying, Tris."

"You're right, I should ask her again."

He smiles at me and starts to lean in, then suddenly seems to become aware of his surroundings and think better of it. Instead he squeezes my leg again under the table.

* * *

"Hi, Uri," I say after sitting down and taking his hand in mine. "You're looking a bit better. Looks like they've taken out most of the stitches, and your bruises are, you know… yellow, instead of blue. No more respirator. You look like yourself ― you didn't, for a while there. So, that's good. I'm starting to expect you to pop up and scare us and tell us this was all some elaborate prank," I chuckle. Uriah lays there just as still as before, the heart monitor beeping slow and steady in the background.

"I skipped the game tonight. It was way across town at Candor and I didn't feel much like sitting in traffic for over an hour to get there. I'll have to go next week when they play Erudite, though, that's a big one for Four ― he used to go to school there, played on their team. It's weird not being at a game. I've always cheered at all the games. But I can't anymore, both because of the accident, and because of my grades. You were right about that, you know. I should have studied more, worked harder. Bet you never thought you'd hear me say that, that you were right, huh?" I stroke my thumb back and forth over the back of his hand and wish there were any sign he could feel it.

"Everyone is really missing you," I go on. "Marlene isn't herself, and Shauna spends a lot of time keeping Zeke company here at the hospital. Lynn is even more pissed off all the time than usual and Al, I can tell he feels really guilty, always moping around. And, I mean… it's a little bit hard not to blame him. But I blame myself, too. If I hadn't started that stupid dare game this wouldn't have happened. Then again, if you hadn't showed up at my place drunk off your ass, this wouldn't have happened either.

"I, uh… so I was thinking, you told me you slept with someone. You know, before the accident. And I was really mad at you, Uri. I couldn't understand why you would think it was a good idea to tell me that, I mean, seriously. But I ― I kind of get it now. I haven't slept with him, but that doesn't mean I won't. Were you keeping secrets, did you want to be with that girl you slept with, Uriah? Because I want to be with this guy and we're having to hide it. I want you to know about it first and somehow, I don't think that telling you while you're comatose quite counts, does it?" I am answered with no change to his heart rate on the monitor, Uriah as still as ever. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

After that I sit with him in silence for a long time, only speaking again just before leaving to remind him that he's still my best friend and I love him, and with a kiss to his forehead, I go home to wait for Four.

* * *

On Saturday, Marlene comes over in the early evening and we spend the next several hours in my room in my pajamas, watching romantic comedies (at Mar's request) and eating popcorn and gummy candies. I know she's still upset and worried for Uriah. I am too, but it's obvious something is really bothering her with how she tears up more than usual throughout the movies, and Uriah's situation is the most likely cause.

After the second movie, we go down to the kitchen to make some ice cream sundaes. She had brought all kinds of toppings with her (as well as three different flavors of ice cream) just for the occasion.

"I know the sweet and salty thing can be good," I say as I watch Marlene make her sundae, "but are you seriously going to eat potato chips on your ice cream?"

"Sure," Marlene replies. "Haven't you ever dipped your french fries in a milkshake? I always did that when we'd go to Wendy's for frosties when I was a kid."

"I guess," I say, "but...those are barbeque flavored."

Marlene just shrugs. "Don't knock it till you try it."

I pull a face that I am sure shows my horror. "No thank you."

"Your house is so quiet," Marlene says as she sits at the bar on the other side of the kitchen island and takes her first bite of her sundae. "I mean, my house is quiet with my brother away at college and all, but still…"

"I know," I sigh.

"Doesn't it get a little creepy at night?" she asks. "I just, what's it like being on your own like this, taking care of yourself?"

"Not exactly my first choice, Mar," I sigh, "but it's better than moving to New York. You do what you have to, you know? It used to bother me, being alone here at night ― that's one of the reasons Uriah stayed over so often. Though I suppose that left Zeke alone. I don't think he ever cared as much though."

"I just can't imagine being left to fend for myself like you have. The very idea scares me," she says, poking her ice cream with her spoon.

"Good thing you've still got your parents, then," I say. She nods. But I can't shake the feeling that something is off with her. "You okay, Mar?"

"Yeah, everything is fine," she says, but only after a pause that is a little too long. "Just worried about Uri, like everyone else."

I slowly eat my ice cream, quietly contemplating the odd conversation with my friend, and I can't shake the feeling that something else is wrong. But if she doesn't want to tell me, I won't push her. It's not like I share everything with my girlfriends, either. Like my relationship with Four, for example.

Finally I say, "Mar, I'm just gonna say this and then I won't bring it up again. I feel like something is bothering you and you don't have to tell me. But please just know, I'm your friend, and whatever it is, I'm here for you. Okay?"

"Thanks, Tris. I know," she assures me with a weak smile. "Don't worry about me, I'm okay." I just nod, I suppose I don't have much choice but to drop it. "Come on, we've got a whole stack of chick flicks to watch."


	31. Chapter 31

**CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE**

* * *

 ** _ **FOUR**_**

* * *

Tris and I have stumbled into her house following an afternoon walking through the city, finding examples of trigonomic functions in the real world for a school assignment. She was offered the project when she spoke to Ms Graham again Friday afternoon to beg for extra credit. We got the photos she needed and I told her I would look over her work to make sure everything looks right after she has finished the corresponding graphing part of the project later this week. I don't really mind her getting a school project done during our date, walking around the city looking at nature and architecture turned out to be pretty fun.

Tris grabs my hand and pulls me after her to the TV room. After a couple weeks of recovery, she no longer needs the pain medications and is acting much more like the Tris I first met, full of energy and excitement. She still wears a cast on her arm, but her other injuries don't seem to bother her much anymore and the bruises have faded significantly.

Tris pulls me down next to her on the couch and grabs the remote controls. "What should I put on?" she asks me.

I shrug. "Does it matter?"

Tris grins and leaves the television on a rerun of _Friends_ before immediately pulling me down to her, her hand at the back of my neck. I hover over her, giving into the kiss without hesitation. Thank god for our tutoring arrangement; while it's been challenging, to say the least, to stay away from each other at school (with the exception of sneaking off here and there to the secluded corners we've discovered), at least we always have an excuse to spend time together outside of school.

"Four," she sighs as I trail kisses down her neck. Not for the first time, I have to stop myself from telling her not to call me that. It just sounds wrong on her lips, but I just can't bring myself to tell her my real name, and of all the pain and secrets that go with it. I'm not ready. I'm not sure I ever will be. I push the thoughts away and refocus my attention to the feeling of her hands fondling my ass as my fingers slip under the hem of her t-shirt.

I give in to my instinct to let my hands slide up her bare skin, raising the t-shirt with them. I hold back enough to move slowly, giving her plenty of time to object, but she doesn't. As my fingers graze the bottom of her bra ― rough, like lace ― she suddenly pushes me back and I sit up, ready to apologize, thinking I've gone too far. But instead, when she sits up too, Tris crosses her arms and grabs the bottom of her shirt and pulls it over her head.

 _Look her in the eye,_ I am screaming at myself internally, but I can't drag my eyes away from her lacy pink bra. God, she's beautiful. My mouth goes dry, I couldn't speak if I tried.

"Hopefully that reaction is good?" Tris jokes and I finally look back at her face and just nod, I'm sure I've got a totally dumbstruck look on my face. Maybe the best way to avoid embarrassing myself further is to go back to what we were doing before.

I crash my lips against hers once again and lean her back onto the couch as I push my tongue into her mouth. Tris pushes my shirt up and I groan at the skin-on-skin contact. My hands slide from her waist up her ribcage and again I pause, but she places her hand over mine and guides it up higher to touch her through the pink lace.

I start to panic when her hands begin sliding from my chest to my back, where my raised t-shirt has left the scarred skin exposed. I pull back but only a little, mind racing. How do I keep her from noticing? Even without seeing my back, she will feel the uneven skin, the ridges and dips left by old wounds from Marcus's belt. This is why I have never dared get even to this point with any other girl I've dated, but with Tris I am losing control and I just can't stop.

I am saved by the bell when my phone rings. I pull slowly back and smile at her before answering. My mother's reminder that she is expecting me home will give me time to think about how to handle this problem before I am alone again with Tris.

* * *

"Four, there you are!"

I pause, cringing at the familiar whining voice. I took my time leaving the trig classroom, lingering to talk to Tris a little longer, so I didn't take the longer route to avoid Lauren like I usually do.

"Hello, Lauren," I say with an annoyed sigh.

She shifts her crutches awkwardly next to her open locker. I hold back an eye roll at her exaggerated attempts to look needy. "Can you help me with my books?" she coos, pouting her lips and holding the stack of books out to me.

I open my mouth to answer but then I get an idea. I smile. "Sure, Lauren," I say.

She smiles in satisfaction as I take the books. But the smile falls as she watches me pull her backpack out of her locker, put the books in and zip up the pack. Her mouth has fallen open by the time I shove the strap into her hand.

"There you go," I say. "You're all set."

I feel her eyes burning into the back of my head as I walk away.

Zeke and Shauna are in their usual seats when I enter the Economics classroom, the teacher nowhere in sight.

"Hey, Four," Zeke says cheerfully.

I raise an eyebrow. "Well, aren't you sunny all of a sudden." He almost seems like his old self, like he was before the accident.

Shauna rolls her eyes. "He's been going through withdrawal from three weeks without going to a party. Christina told us her parents are going out of town this weekend." I hear Lauren's crutches just behind me and see Shauna looking over her shoulder, rolling her eyes again before looking back at me. Lauren has been sitting nearer to us since Peter was suspended, she used to sit over by him.

"So… there's a party, then," I say.

"Yep!" Zeke says, and I swear he's actually bouncing slightly in his seat. "Friday after the game. And Tris is gonna go! She bailed on the last few." That makes up my mind for me, I'll be there too.

"And don't forget Al," Shauna smirks.

"Al?" I say. "Where's he been lately, anyway?" Shauna and Zeke just shrug. I hadn't noted his absence, but now that I think of it, he has been missing from our group's spot at lunch some days.

"I dunno," Zeke snickers, "but he was all on board for the party as soon as Tris said she'd go."

Shauna rolls her eyes. "It's nothing new. But now she's single."

I had noticed the way Al looks at Tris, but never any sign he might do something about it. Still, there's a wave of possessiveness that goes over me at Shauna's suggestion. But I trust Tris.

"So, we're playing at Erudite this weekend," Zeke says. "Wasn't that your old school?"

"Yep," I say.

"That'll be weird, won't it?" Shauna asks. "Playing against your old team?"

I shrug. "I guess." I'm really not looking forward to it, but I don't want to answer questions about it. Peter's nothing to my old rival at Erudite, Eric Coulter. I hope they don't play dirty, but I wouldn't put it past Eric and his little followers.

"Should be scouts at this one, too," Zeke adds.

I nod; Erudite is our strongest competition. "Yeah, so we'd better play well." I can only hope that it's just scouts watching me and not my father too. But he may show up, being the game is so near his home.

I'm no more comfortable with this topic now than I was with that of Al's interest in Tris. Luckily for me, I'm saved from any further conversation when Ms. Davis walks in (albeit three minutes late) and immediately begins today's lesson.

* * *

My hands shake with nerves as I drive to my Wednesday night dinner with Marcus. I'm always anxious when I have to see him, but this is the first time I've had to actually go to his house for the weekly dinner, we usually meet at a restaurant. I try to remind myself that when I spent the weekend here last month, he didn't touch me. Plus, the biggest game of the football season is coming up on Friday, so maybe he'll spare me even if I say or do the wrong thing. He doesn't love me, but he does like to brag about my success in football.

I ring the doorbell at 6:34, and Mary, Marcus's longtime housekeeper, quickly lets me in. It feels odd to ring the bell at the house I lived in for a year, but at the same time a bit satisfying. Because this is not my home any more. This is not my regular life any more. I may resent the years it took my mother to get me out of this hell, but I am still thankful that she finally did.

Mary leads me to the dining room where a gourmet looking dinner of roasted chicken, scalloped potatoes, freshly baked dinner rolls, and an elegant salad is laid out on the table. It all looks like it should be in a magazine. Nothing like the budget dinners I have grown accustomed to with Mom.

"You're late," Marcus accuses, sitting stiffly in his chair with a rocks glass of scotch in hand. I'm sure it's not his first. Trust Marcus to make a big deal out of four minutes.

I bow my head. "I'm sorry, sir. I got here as quickly as possible after practice. Coach kept us a few minutes late, we have a big game this weekend."

Marcus just grunts. He turns to the housekeeper. "Thank you, Mary, you may go home. Tobias will clear the table after dinner."

"Thank you, sir," Mary says with a smile. "It was good to see you, Tobias." I tense when she places a hand on my shoulder for a moment on the way out. Mary has never harmed me in any way, but Marcus's presence winds me up too tight to react well to anyone's touch, no matter how benign.

Dinner is tense, as usual. Marcus asks about school and football, to which I answer with as little information as possible. Then he says something that makes my stomach flip. "Nothing noteworthy to tell me about at all then, Tobias?" Marcus asks as he pats his mouth with his cloth napkin.

"N-no, sir," I say. It almost sounds like a question.

"Hmm." Marcus then moves for his suit jacket's breast pocket, from which he draws out a carefully folded piece of white paper. He hands me the paper and when I unfold it and see the school letterhead and Ms. Matthews' signature at the bottom, my stomach twists and I feel lightheaded.

This is bad. Very, very bad.


	32. Chapter 32

_Thanks for the lovely reviews as always! I love hearing from you all. Thanks so much for reading!_

* * *

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO**

* * *

 ** _ **TRIS**_**

* * *

Over the past few weeks, I have grown to hate Wednesday nights. Wednesday is the night that Four has dinner with his dad each week. I feel his absence more every week.

I miss Uriah, too. He spent so much time here keeping me company, maybe that is part of the reason I hung onto our relationship for so long. Although if I'm honest with myself, even six or seven months ago we were fine, we were happy. It was only five or six months ago that it all began to change. We had a big fight the first time he drove drunk to my place, and Lauren, who had weaseled her way into the group, took full advantage. He turned her down in the end, and we made up about a week later, but things were never the same.

It's only a little after 9:00 when I change into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a tank top, wash my face, and climb into bed. I have an English test coming up on Friday, so I curl up with my favorite fuzzy purple blanket and a copy of _Catcher in the Rye._

Reading is just about putting me to sleep, and I am jolted back to attention by my phone ringing. I fumble for it, barely finding where it is tangled in my blankets before in time to answer. I see a photo of my gorgeous boyfriend pop up on the screen and smile as I quickly swipe to answer it.

"Tris." The moment I hear his voice, I am on high alert. I sit up straight, suddenly wide awake and serious. "I need help."

"Four? Are you okay? What's wrong?" I rush out.

"I just, I was trying to drive home and I can't… I had to pull off. I need you to come get me."

I jump out of bed and pull on my old, worn Chucks. "What happened? Why can't you drive, Four?"

"I'm hurt."

"Were you in an accident?" I ask, grabbing my keys off the dresser.

"No."

"How did you get hurt? Tell me what's wrong with you, Four." I press on my way down the stairs.

After a short pause, "Tris, please, just tell me you're coming."

"Of course I am." I awkwardly juggle my phone while pulling on my jacket. Obviously pressing for answers is getting me nowhere, so I accept defeat… for now. "Where are you?"

* * *

It takes about twenty-five minutes to drive to the grocery store parking lot where Four waits for me in his Mustang. I pull up next to him and see his silhouette, hunched over with his forehead resting against the steering wheel. I hop out of the truck and he stiffly sits up as I approach, and gets out of the car.

The evidence of his injury is not on his exposed skin, but in the way he moves, stiff and slow and deliberate. I see him straining to reach for the bags in the backseat and pull him away by the arm, gesturing to my truck with a tilt of my head. He nods without making eye contact. I grab the backpack and duffel bag from his car, check to make sure he hasn't left the keys inside, and lock the doors. After throwing his bags in the bed of my truck

I climb in and turn the ignition. I pause and watch him for a moment. Four is sitting hunched forward, gripping the front of the seat with his hands, eyes closed and face pinched. I take a deep breath in and out before putting the truck in reverse.

For more than fifteen minutes, I just drive and neither of us says a word. Finally we are nearing home and I can't wait any longer. "I'd really like to know what happened, Four," I sigh.

"I know," he says ― more like groans.

I wait for a moment with no sign that he is going to explain himself. So I just sigh again and say, "Can I help with whatever it is? I mean, first aid or whatever?"

Like every response tonight, it's only after a long pause. "Yeah," he says.

"Where do you want me to take you?"

"Do you mind if we go to your place?"

This time it is my turn to pause, I wasn't expecting that with how closed off he is tonight. He has never been an open book by any means, but tonight he is a stone wall.

"Okay," I say.

* * *

It isn't until Four and I are standing in my kitchen that I get the first real hint of the nature of his injuries. He moves so gingerly as he begins to peel off his jacket that I rush forward to help him. As I pull it away, I suck in a sharp breath at the stripes and blots of dark rust that have soaked through his gray t-shirt.

"Four…" I trail off. He keeps his gaze fixed to his shoes. I sigh and lead him to a chair, directing him to sit sideways on it so that I have access to his back. I slowly peel away his t-shirt, and he hisses when it sticks to his wounded back.

The skin is raw and red, entire sections resembling raw meat. My hands hover over him, afraid to touch him at all for fear of amplifying his pain. His eyes are closed, sweat on his forehead.

What the hell happened to him?

Somewhere deep down, I know, I _know_ he has given me all the clues I need, but these are thoughts too painful to face right now. It can wait. I need to focus on what is unfortunately the easy part: treating his wounds.

"Stay there, Four" I whisper with a careful hand on his arm ― a part of him left unmarred. I try to lift my hand, to walk away, but Four catches my hand in his and holds it in place.

"Tobias," he says, finally meeting my eyes. I just stare at him. He clears his throat. "My name… my name is Tobias."

"Tobias," I try the syllables out on my tongue. And despite the situation, I smile, just a little bit. "Okay. Stay there, Tobias."

He lets go of my hand and I regretfully pull away to get him some of my leftover pain medication and a glass of water before hunting down all the supplies I will need to properly clean and bandage his wounded back.

* * *

"So. Tobias." We are laying side-by-side in my bed, both of us on our stomachs, heads turn to face each other, our faces only illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the uncovered window.

"Just when we're alone," he says softly. "I like hearing it from your lips." I smile and shift to place a soft kiss on his lips, then settle back into my previous position.

"Okay. When it's just us two." We silently stare into each other's eyes for several minutes before I speak again. I can see how his mind is racing, trying to figure out what to say, and I decide to break the ice a bit to help him out. "It was your dad, wasn't it." It's not really a question.

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"Well, that's where you were tonight. You've shared enough that I could figure it out once I saw…"

Tobias lifts a hand and brushes a stray lock of hair from my cheek, tucking it behind my ear.

"Why did you want me to bring you here?" I ask him. "Instead of home?"

Tobias sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. "I don't know, I guess… I feel safe here with you," he says slowly. "My dad… it's been like this for as long as I can remember. Used to just be my mom he'd go after, but as I got older he started going after me, too. Then when Mom left things got really bad. And… she worries, so I suppose I wanted to protect her from seeing it, too. But at the same time, I'm still mad at her."

I can't blame him for any of that. Not that I mind taking care of him, I'm just so angry right now, so angry that he has ever been treated this way, let alone ongoing for nearly his whole life. I assume I'll meet Tobias's mother at some point but I'd just assume put it off as long as possible. I'm not sure I'll be able to stand being in the same room with the woman, knowing what she allowed to happen to him. Maybe that isn't entirely fair, but she abandoned him. He was just a little boy, and she abandoned him to a monster.

"We have to do something, Tobias," I say, shaking my head. "You can't keep seeing your dad if ― if _this_ is what he's going to do to you."

Tobias frowns. "If I just stay out of trouble, it should be okay. He got a letter from the school about that fight with Peter. That was why."

I roll my eyes. "You think Peter's going to just let you be now? Especially after he got in trouble for that fight." I shake my head. "'Cause I can tell you right now, he won't. It isn't over. And you're supposed to go there for the weekend soon, Tobias. If this is what happens when you just go over for dinner…"

"I know," Tobias whispers. "Look, Tris, I know my mom, she tried. I don't know what he's holding over her, but Tris, Marcus is dangerous. This is the best it's gonna get. Weekly dinners and one weekend a month. I used to live with this every day, Tris, I can manage this way for now. It's less than a year left. When I turn 18, he can't make me go see him any more."

I close my eyes. "Okay," I say reluctantly. "But Tobias, if this happens again… then I'm not letting this go."

With clouded eyes, he nods. Tobias drapes an arm over my back and pulls me closer to him. "Okay, Tris." He swallows. "Can I stay tonight?"

"Always," I murmur before laying my head next to his, sharing a pillow, and closing my eyes to drift off into sleep.


	33. Chapter 33

**CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE**

* * *

 ** _ **FOUR**_**

* * *

I am awoken by sunlight on my face and keep my eyes squeezed shut. My back stings and aches; for a moment I think I am back in my old house with Marcus and vaguely wonder why I am on my side. Usually after one of Marcus's "lessons" I stay on my stomach all night.

But then I freeze as I become aware of the warm body pressed against my chest, which seems to be wrapped much more neatly than I usually manage on my own, and I open my eyes to see a mess of wavy blonde hair. That's when I come back to reality: I don't live with my father, not any more, it's just that this is the first time I've been punished since Mom and I moved out. If not for the pain my back I might think I had died and gone to heaven, because I am spooning Tris Prior, in her bed.

A bolt of panic shoots through me remembering that it was Tris who I called for help last night ― that she knows my deepest secret now and for a second all that goes through my head is, _What the hell were you thinking, Tobias?!_

I take a deep breath and focus on my memories of last night, and I quickly calm. Because I remember. I remember that I only saw anger in her eyes, not pity. I remember the way she took care of me. I remember the way my name, my real name, sounded on her voice and lips, and it makes me smile. And instead of feeling panicked, I simply feel free, and maybe even loved.

Ten peaceful minutes pass before an alarm begins to blare from Tris's phone. She mumbles words that sound like they might be curses and reaches forward to fumble for her phone, eventually having to pull away from me to reach it. I feel cold where her body had been pressed against mine. As soon as the alarm stops, I automatically reach to pull her back to me, but stop short feeling the pull on my wounds.

Tris rolls back toward me, turning to face me and I drape my arm over her waist. "Good morning, Tobias" she says with a soft smile. Hearing her say my name makes me smile back. That, and just seeing her beautiful face. Then her brow creases with worry "How are you feeling?"

"A bit sore, but I'll be fine. Football practice is gonna be a bitch, though," I lament, feeling a flash of worry for the game against my old school, Erudite, tomorrow night. To play badly tomorrow would not only be a hit to my pride, Marcus would certainly have something to say about it and it would not impress the scouts that are sure to be present.

"You can have another one of my pain pills but maybe just half while we'll be at school?" she suggests.

"Yeah, that would be good. Thanks," I say. "Uh, any chance you could give me a ride back to my car tonight after practice?"

"Of course," she agrees. To my disappointment, she sits up and stretches. "We should get ready for school. Do you want the first shower, or…?"

I blush just at the thought of Tris in the shower… naked. "You first, yeah," I say quickly, "I'm sure you have to like, do your hair and all that… girly stuff."

Tris laughs and rolls out of bed.

* * *

At lunch, Christina shows us all the proof of the latest dare. We watch and listen to the video she took with a hidden camera placed in her living room as she very convincingly informs her parents that she's pregnant and isn't sure who the father is. Most of us end up nearly rolling on the tile floor laughing as her parents hit the roof, both of them yelling and her mother bursting into tears. Then there's the lecture about how she has ruined her life, how is she going to manage college with a baby, and other hurtful words.

When her mother tells her in no uncertain terms that she needs to get an abortion, Christina finally tries to calm them by admitting that it was only a dare. When the lecture on safe sex starts, Christina shuts off the recording. "God, that was embarrassing. You know my mom went on at me for over an hour after that? Thanks for that," she whines, throwing a crumpled burrito wrapper at Shauna.

"I'm sure you'll heed all their warnings after that lecture," Tris laughs. "Doesn't look like a conversation you'd want to experience a second time."

"Ugh, I know, right?" Christina laughs. "When I do have to tell them I'm pregnant one day, I'll probably be thirty years old, married with a fantastic career, and still be terrified of how my mother will react. I should have just taken the shots and sung the damn karaoke."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't," Zeke chuckles. "As much as I love watching you embarrass yourself in front of half the school, that was even better."

I am still smiling as I make eye contact with Tris, who sits across the hall between Zeke and Marlene. I quirk an eyebrow at her. "Christina's a bit tone deaf," Tris mock whispers to me.

"Hey!" Christina protests, looking for something else to throw. She nicks one of Will's grapes and throws it at Tris, who tries to catch it but is too clumsy with the cast on her right arm, and sticks her tongue out at Christina.

"Okay," Zeke says, clapping his hands together. "Your turn to give a dare, Chris."

"Mmhmm," Christina says with a glint in her eye. She scans the group, making eye contact with Tris and smirking. Then she abruptly turns her attention. "Al," she says. He looks nervous. "Seven minutes in heaven with the girl of your choice―"

"Lame," Zeke coughs.

"I wasn't done yet!" Christina scolds. Zeke waves his hand palm up, gesturing for her to continue. "Seven minutes in heaven, with the girl of your choice," she repeats, and I tense when I see her eye Tris again, "in a teacher's car, tomorrow during lunch." She smirks in satisfaction.

"Damn. Okay, that's pretty good," Zeke admits.

"Al, do you accept the challenge?" Christina asks seriously.

I feel sick at the way Al's eyes flit to Tris. Then he says, "Okay, I accept."

My eyes lock on Tris and I try to hide my apprehension. She doesn't notice as she's talking quietly with Marlene as the group's conversation moves to other topics. They both stand up and she finally meets my eyes before gesturing for me to follow, so I do.

She stops a few yards away from the group and Marlene disappears down the hallway. "What's up?" I ask when I reach her.

"Marlene isn't feeling good, I told her I'd give her a ride home. Just wanted to let you know I'll meet you at Spanish class and that I might be late," she tells me.

"Sure," I say, a little disappointed that we won't have a chance to sneak off together before class.

"Okay, I'll see you in a while," Tris says. She gives my arm a gentle squeeze as she passes and heads off to meet up with Marlene at her truck.

* * *

I meet Tris in the parking lot after football practice and climb into her truck. We start off toward my car, making small talk about school and tomorrow's game as we wade through the city traffic. But talking about the game starts to just make me more nervous, and I don't want to talk about mangled back or the person who caused it (though I do admit that yes, practice was as brutal as expected) so I change the subject.

"So, what was going on with Marlene?" I ask. Spanish class was half over by the time Tris arrived, so we didn't have time to talk then, and I didn't think of it when I saw her in gym class at the end of the school day.

"Oh..." She bites her lip, eyes fixed to the road. "Just a stomach ache. I'm sure she'll be fine." Something about her tone warns me to drop it, and I do, even though it piques my curiosity.

I take a deep breath and bring up the topic that has been on my mind since lunch today. "Al's going to choose you for that dare, you know."

"God, I hope not," Tris mutters, frowning. She glances at me and her frown deepens. "Is that why you're being…"

"Being what?" I snap.

"Mopey."

"I am not mopey," I protest. The corner of her mouth twitches. "I'm not! I just hate the idea of you, alone in the back of a car, with Al. And then there is the image of him kissing you. Is there any way you can get out of it?"

"Well…" she drawls, thinking. "I don't know, Four. Seven minutes in heaven only means I have to be in there with him for those seven minutes, it doesn't mean we have to do anything. That's still up to me, you know."

"I suppose," I say, staring out the window as she pulls off the freeway. We'll be at my car in a couple of minutes.

"You're moping again." Her amusement is easily detected in her voice.

"Well, how would you like it if the roles were reversed?" I retort, scowling.

"You and Al in the back of a car?" she teases. "I wouldn't be worried."

I roll my eyes. "You knew what I meant, Tris."

"Okay, okay," she says. Her phone rings and she tries to dig through her purse for it, the cast on her arm impairing her coordination in doing so . "I wouldn't like it, either, but I guess I would just have to trust you."

"Guess I'll just have to hold you to that if it ever comes up, Prior," I say as I push her hand out of the way and get her phone out for her. I see Marlene's name on the screen as I hand the phone over to Tris.

Tris swipes with her thumb and holds the phone to her ear. "Hey, Mar," she answers.

I silently point out where to go as she talks to Mar. I can't hear what Marlene is saying but the tone of her voice is anxious and Tris is answering in soothing tones. "I can be there in 45," Tris says as she pulls into the parking lot and drives slowly toward my car. "Try to calm down, okay? I'll see you soon."

Tris hangs up and sets her phone on the seat of the car, then steers into the empty space next to my car. She turns to me.

"I have to go help Marlene with something," she says, her face impassive. "I won't be able to study with you tonight."

"You sure?" I ask, disappointed for the second time today. "We have that English test tomorrow."

"I only have thirty pages left in the book," she assures me. "I'll get it done." She smirks. "You're pouting again, Tobias."

"I'm not―" I start as she starts to giggle. "Okay, fine, I'm pouting. I've been looking forward to 'studying' with you all day."

"Me too," she sighs. "But this is important."

"Okay, okay. I should go face my mother, anyway." I did let my mom know I was with a friend last night, but I know she'll be worried since I had that dinner with Marcus ahead of time. Not being ready for my mom to fuss over me was one of the reasons I stayed with Tris last night.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Tris says leaning toward me. I slide closer to her, wrap my arm around her waist and give her a passionate kiss that I hope will remind her in no uncertain terms who she belongs with when Al inevitably corners her in a teacher's car for seven minutes tomorrow.


	34. Chapter 34

**CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR**

* * *

 ** _ **TRIS**_**

* * *

When I pull into Marlene's driveway, she is sitting on the front porch with her knees pulled up to her chest and two large duffel bags on the steps in front of her. She slowly stands as I close the door to my truck and start toward her. Marlene's parents didn't even leave the porch light on for her, and even in the dark, I can see how red and puffy her eyes are.

Her lower lip quivers as I pull her into a hug and she bursts into a sob. Fresh tears soak the shoulder of my shirt. I hold her, unmoving, as she cries. By the time she quiets, I am shivering in the cool night air.

I pull back from the hug. "Okay," I say. "Come on over to my house, we'll eat our weight in ice cream and you can tell me what happened. I even have the rest of those BBQ flavored chips you were putting on your sundae the last time."

My comment gets a bit of a laugh from Marlene, much to my relief. I grab one of the duffle bags and she picks up the other, and soon we are headed back to my house.

* * *

We bring the whole carton of ice cream up to my room, along with those potato chips, a couple of bowls, and the little bit of candy that is leftover from last weekend. Marlene didn't tell me what was wrong when she asked me to take her home from school today, but I had been sitting next to her and noticed how uncomfortable she was while watching Christina's dare video. Then, she had asked me to run by a pharmacy on our way back to her house. It didn't take me long to figure it out from there. But still I didn't say anything. If she wanted me to know, she would tell me.

Her phone call was mostly indecipherable; all I could gather was that she had a big fight with her parents and they kicked her out.

"What happened?" I ask, scooping a bit of chocolate ice cream into my bowl before handing the carton of ice cream to Marlene.

"Do I have to say it?" she asks miserably. "I'm sure you've worked it out by now."

I sigh. "I remember," I say, "when my mom died… it was over a week, before I said the words. Before I said out loud, 'she's dead.' And… it wasn't really real until I did, you know?" Marlene breaks up the potato chips into pieces before sprinkling them on top of her ice cream. "But you can't ignore this, Mar. You can't just pretend this isn't happening. You have decisions to make, you have things that need to be dealt with, and it isn't just about you anymore."

Marlene closes her eyes, resigned. "I'm pregnant," she whispers. She opens her eyes and looks at me, and I take both her hands in mine. "I ― I got a test at the pharmacy today. I took it, in my bathroom. I put a tissue over top of it and I recycled the box. But I guess the receipt fell out somewhere and my mom found it and saw what I had bought. So she went looking, and she found the test and she freaked out, Tris. She and Dad yelled at me for… it felt like hours. They said…" Marlene trails off and shakes her head, takes a deep breath.

"So they kicked you out," I say sadly.

Marlene nods and bursts into tears again. "What am I gonna do, Tris? I can't be a mom, I'm sixteen! I don't even have a place to live! Not just when the baby comes but I don't even know where I'm sleeping tomorrow night. I can't― I don't―"

"Oh, Mar." I reach for her and wrap her up in my arms. "It'll all work out. You can stay here for a while, okay? We'll figure it out." She thanks me between hiccups. "So… you're going to keep it?"

"I think so. I won't have an abortion, I couldn't do that."

"And… the father?" I ask carefully, because as far as I know, Marlene hasn't been seeing anyone in a while. There was this guy Gabe she dated for a few months, but they broke up last spring.

"It was at a party," she says. "It was just the one time. I don't remember if we used anything, I was drunk. I― I don't want to talk about him right now."

"But are you going to tell him?" I ask.

"It's complicated, Tris," she says. "Just drop it. For now let's just assume I'm on my own, okay?"

"Okay." I give her a long hug, then pull back and pick my ice cream up. We eat in silence. When I have finished mine I set the bowl on my bedside table. "Right, well, first thing's first. Let's set you up with a place to stay. How's about the guest room downstairs?"

* * *

The following afternoon, I go to visit Uriah again before the game. Since my injuries from the accident have benched me from cheerleading for the rest of the football season, I don't have to be at Erudite High as early as my friends. Technically I don't have to be there at all, but I know this is a big game, especially for Tobias, so I wouldn't dare miss the chance to cheer them on.

"Hey," I say, sitting in the chair next to the bed and holding Uriah's hand. "It's been a crazy week. The nurse told me you won't remember anything I tell you, but some of it I still have to keep to myself, just in case. Marlene has some… big stuff going on… her parents kicked her out last night and she moved in with me for now. Zeke has probably told you, but he's stoked to be able to go to a party tonight. I know it won't be the same without you there, though.

"Today was eventful as well. Christina dared Al to play seven minutes in heaven in a teacher's car." I chuckle. "Remember how you told me once that he had a thing for me? Well, you were right, I guess. Because guess who he picked? Yep, me. God, Uri, it was so awkward."

― _-Flashback―-_

 _Of all the cars she could choose, Ms. Reyes just has to drive a 1970s Volkswagen van. I couldn't really argue with Al's point that we're less likely to get caught in this vehicle than any other in the lot, not to mention we can easily jimmy the lock on the old hippie-mobile. But I'm uncomfortable. Maybe Four psyched me out with his 'concerns' over the whole situation, but I would almost rather get caught than be someplace this private with Al. Not to mention, I'm a little worried people will think I spent my lunch getting stoned, the smell of weed is so strong. I don't know how Ms. Reyes can drive to work in this thing and not be drug tested on the spot._

 _I decide to try and keep conversation going for the full seven minutes and not give an opening for him to try anything romantic. Unfortunately, Al and I never seem to have had much in common so I don't really know what to talk about._

" _Haven't seen you around much lately," I say._

" _Yeah," he says. "It's just, you know, been I don't know, weird. Uriah being… It's just easier not to be reminded of what happened."_

" _Why?" I ask. "Didn't have much to do with you."_

" _Seriously, Tris? Yes it did," Al says dejectedly. "It was my fault."_

" _The dare game was my idea. None of us stopped you."_

" _You don't blame me? I mean, you and Uriah were…"_

" _Best friends? Yeah, we were and still are." Oh shit. He looks almost… hopeful. Not what I was going for. I search for something to say, consider making out that Uriah and I still have something, but that will only get me into more trouble if anyone finds out about me and Four. I try to steer the conversation in a different direction. "So who have you been hanging out with then?"_

" _Trying my luck with a few different groups. I still feel like if Uriah gets worse everyone might blame me. I've never quite fit in, have I? Not like you do."_

 _He hasn't. But I can't say that to him. "You're a good guy, Al. No one thinks otherwise."_

" _I'm glad you feel that way, Tris," he says. And as he says it, he puts his arm around my shoulders. It's like alarm bells start going off in my head._

 _I lean forward, trying to make his arm fall away, but Al's hand grips my arm and turns me toward him as he leans in too. I fight to lean back and away, he barely manages to brush his lips against mine and I am thankful for the high ceiling in this van as I stand up._

" _Sorry," Al says, his cheeks turning red. "I, um ― sorry. I shouldn't have…"_

" _You know," I say, hurrying to change the subject, because this is so awkward it's painful, "this van really smells. Seems we've confirmed the cause of Ms. Reyes red eyes and spaciness. And based on how strong the smell is, I'd say it's more than just leftover from her smoking in here. Care to do some snooping?"_

― _-End flashback―-_

"So anyway," I tell my non-responsive ex-boyfriend, "I rode out the rest of our seven minutes uncovering some of Ms. Reyes secrets. And guess what? She keeps her weed in a coffee can under the driver's seat. There had to be an ounce in there. I also found two bongs, a glass pipe ― it was pretty, actually, all red swirls and shaped to look like an elephant ― and an old soup can almost completely full of used-up joints." I'm laughing remembering it. "Plenty of snacks, too ― brownies and cookies and chips and weirdly enough, three loaves of bread. She also has quite the extensive collection of Grateful Dead and Bob Dylan cassettes. Because she still hasn't upgraded the stereo in that old van to even a CD player, just a tape player in there.

"The dare Al gave afterward was better than usual, though," I continue. "Lynn has to 'Cat Fact' Ms Reyes. You remember when we saw something about that prank once? Use a fake number app thing to text facts about cats to someone and only send even more when they tell you to stop?"

I take a few deep breaths and watch his chest rise and fall. I told Al no one blames him, everyone tells me it isn't my fault, but the truth is I do. I blame Al. I blame myself. And I blame Uriah, even though he's the one paying the price. I blame him for putting all of us through this and even though I feel guilty for that, and with a sob, it begins to spill out again.

"Why did you have to show up that night, Uriah? Couldn't you just wait until the next morning and come over when you were sober? Why couldn't you ever get it through your thick fucking skull, the way it made me feel every time you showed up drunk?" I choke back a sob. "How much danger you put yourself and anyone else on that road in? And god, Uri," I sniffle, finally lowering my voice to a whisper, "why did I let you dare Al to take that stop sign."

With a shudder, I let myself collapse forward, laying my head on the bed near his shoulder. Until my tears die down, I just stay like that, only letting him know I'm still there by squeezing his hand.

"Come back to us soon, Uriah," I say softly. "I don't know how to do any of this without you. You're still my best friend, you know. So heal up and open those eyes, because everyone misses you. So much."

I finally stand, place a soft kiss on his forehead, and head out to another game and another party with an empty space that Uriah should fill.


	35. Chapter 35

**CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE**

* * *

 ** _ **FOUR**_**

* * *

"Ready to kick some stuck-up Erudite ass, Four?" Zeke asks jovially, jumping with his arm stretched upward to tap a support beam protruding from the ceiling of the hallway as we walk to the locker room for visiting sports teams.

"Always," I say, hiding my uncertainty. I am not in top shape tonight. The gashes on my back have begun to scab over and any significant movement stretches them painfully tight. Undoubtedly a few will break open during the game, so I have my torso wrapped in a generous few layers of gauze and will wear my Dri-Fit athletic top under my football jersey to hide all evidence of my injuries from prying eyes.

I keep my eyes peeled for any of my rivals from my old school, but so far have only passed a couple of guys I know, all ones I never had any quarrels with. Anytime I receive a nod of recognition, I politely return it, but that's all the acknowledgement that passes between myself and my former teammates. It's kind of amazing to me that I have such good friends at Dauntless already; I had friends at Erudite, yeah, but it almost as though it was just for appearance sake.

The locker room we will be using is beyond the one I was in every day last fall, the one the people I had hoped to avoid are loitering outside of. Leaning against the wall are the three guys I had the most trouble with: Parker Jacobsen, Sean Arnold, and, of course, Eric Coulter.

"Well, well, if it isn't Number-Boy," Eric sneers. "Tired of fighting me for the spotlight, were you, Eaton?"

"It was never much of a fight, Coulter," I quip without pause.

Eric scowls. "Guess we'll just see which of us the scouts are talking to after the game, won't we?"

I stare him down. "Good for you that I transferred schools, isn't it? If I were still here, you wouldn't see enough time on the field for the scouts to even know you exist."

Eric's looks like he swallowed a lemon. "You're going down this time, Four," he sneers after me.

* * *

I walk slowly to the locker room as I grit my teeth against the pain shooting through my shoulder, arm and back. It's only the third quarter, and I know already, I'm out of the game. I somehow managed to downplay my pain enough that Coach didn't insist I go to the ER, where I would never get away without someone noticing the wounds on my back. I don't need the ER anyway. I can deal with this myself. I have done it before.

As soon as I make it into the school building I look up and down the hall to be sure I am alone. As much as this hurts right now, the process of popping it back into place will hurt even more, so I cradle my arm to my chest and take a minute to gather myself, leaning my forehead against the cool wall trying to control my breathing. If the pain in my shoulder wasn't bad enough, Wednesday's lashes on my back burn and throb worse than they have since that first night.

I straighten up quickly when I hear the door open behind me, and I turn to see my mother rushing toward me. Her concern is clear in her deepened worry lines and the way she rushes to check me over. It hurts even more, and I hiss through my teeth.

"Dislocated," she says.

"I know."

"I can fix it."

I roll my eyes. "I don't need your help."

"Tobias…"

Guilt eats at me seeing the hurt look on her face. "Fine," I sigh. "I'm sorry. Thank you."

Mom nods. "We'll need ice packs and a sling."

"I know where they are. We should go to the locker room."

I am laying on a bench in the locker room and Mom has some single-use cold packs and a sling that I have no qualms stealing from Erudite High. The ref called a foul, but I'd rather Eric have been thrown out of the game for the shit he pulled tonight. Whatever, I didn't expect any less from him.

"I thought you had to work tonight," I say, watching her.

"I wanted to see you play," she says. "Traded shifts with Mindy. I have to be there at 11:00." She begins to reach for my arm but we are both startled by the door bursting open. My mood instantly lightens when I see Tris rushing over to me.

"Are you okay?" she blurts. "That play was just awful, I can't believe he's getting away with that! Ugh, he's worse than Peter!"

Tris is at my side now but stops abruptly seeing my mother next to her.

"I'll be okay. Mom and I just need to pop my shoulder back into place."

"Who is this?" Mom asks warily. She is careful to sound polite, but there is no warmth in her voice.

"Mom, this is my friend Tris Prior. Tris, this is my mother, Evelyn Eaton." Tris and I make eye contact and I am surprised to see a hardness in her eyes. We have a short, silent conversation with only a look, and I see her concede: she won't make any waves here tonight. I can only hope I can expect the same from Mom.

"Shouldn't a doctor be doing this?" Tris asks, worried.

"Tris," I say softly, keeping a grip on my pain with my good hand's tight hold on the edge of the bench, "you know I can't."

I don't miss the look on Mom's face, her eyes boring into me, full of questions or maybe even accusations.

With a stiff nod, Tris asks, "How can I help?"

"Thank you for your concern, but we're fine," Evelyn says, dismissing Tris. Tris bites her cheek.

"Mom," I say, a clear warning. I soften my face as I return my attention to Tris. "Just hold my hand, okay?"

Wordlessly, Tris kneels on the floor next to me and grabs my hand, her grip firm. After a warning Mom gets to work at returning my humerus where it belongs in the socket, and I keep my eyes glued to Tris's, screaming through gritted teeth. I know my hard grip on her hand must hurt but Tris does not flinch, instead staying completely focused on me.

With my shoulder back in place, Tris sits next to me and holds a cold pack in place while Mom helps me get into the sling and adjust it to fit properly. While my mother tidies up the first aid supplies and puts them back into their designated locker, I speak quietly with Tris.

"Thank you," I say, leaning in close to her. She still holds the cold pack with one hand so her other is free to intertwine her fingers with mine.

"I didn't do anything," she protests.

"Yes, you did," I argue. "Just you being here, it helped. More than you know. But you should get back before anyone asks questions."

"It's just Will and Lynn," she tells me. "Everyone else is cheering or playing ball. But still, you're probably right. Are you going to be up for the party tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it," I assure her. "Seriously, Tris, I'm fine."

"Okay. See you after the game."

I look over her shoulder to make sure my mom is turned away from us, and she is, so I give her a kiss that I wish didn't need to be so brief. Tris squeezes my hand and, with a polite nice-to-meet-you to my mother on her way out the door, leaves the locker room and returns to the watch the game with Will and Lynn.

My mom closes the locker and sits down next to me. "You told her," she says without inflection.

"Yes," I say, and even though I feel like a scolded puppy hanging its head with its tail between its legs, I don't look away from her penetrating stare.

"That was reckless, Tobias. What if she tells someone? Do you realize what could happen?"

Honestly, I don't. I don't understand what my mother knows about Marcus, or what Marcus knows about her, that makes it so dangerous for us to go to some sort of authority for help. I can only trust that my mother is doing what she believes to be the best and safest course of action to protect us from Marcus as best she can.

But I don't say that.

"I trust her."

"You haven't known her long enough to trust her, Tobias. You are putting an awful lot of faith in someone you met not two months ago." Evelyn shakes her head. "I suppose it's too late now. Who is she to you? You two seemed...close."

"She's a friend," I say. "A good friend."

Evelyn scoffs. "Be very careful, Tobias. Even if you don't care for your own safety, you have put your _friend_ in danger now, as well."

I stiffen at her words, remembering Tris telling me that if this happened again she would not remain silent. It had never occurred to me that the simple knowledge of what my father has done to me, and to my mother, could put Tris in danger of his wrath and now I feel uneasy.

"What do you mean? How is she in danger?"

Evelyn only says, "Your father has many connections, Tobias. He is a dangerous man."

* * *

We lost the game.

It wasn't just all the missing players ― me, for most of the second half; Uriah, unresponsive in a hospital bed instead of on the defense line; Peter, suspended from school and benched, and unable to pick up the slack I left when my shoulder injury barred me from finishing the last two quarters. Even when I was on the field, I was not at my best, and probably would have been pulled in favor of Peter had he been allowed to play tonight. In the half of the game I did play, I fumbled twice and once, practically hand delivered the ball to Erudite. I am dreading my father's reaction. The scouts were indeed watching, and it was easily my worst game all season.

Eric smirks at me as a pair of college scouts walk away from him, and slings an arm around Missy Taylor. He keeps his eyes on me, trying to taunt me, both before and after he pulls her in for a sloppy kiss, practically making out with her right there at the side of the football field. I know he's trying to get at me but I couldn't care less about Missy. She and I dated for a couple months last year but I really was just trying to fill the loneliness I felt. It didn't work. There was no real connection between us.

I showered before returning to watch the rest of the game, taking advantage of an empty locker room where there was no one around to notice the wounds on my back. They have all started developing scabs, but rough tackles broke a few of them open. My mother waited outside the door to the locker room and came back after my shower to help me wrap my torso with a fresh layer of gauze before I dressed. I can usually do it well enough myself, but it would have been very difficult tonight with my arm in a sling.

Mom hurried off to work after that. I won't see her again until at least tomorrow morning, but I still have another parent to deal with. Marcus was in the crowd, and I am sure he won't leave until he has verbally ripped me to shreds, at the least. While it may be humiliating for anyone to overhear what he has to say to me, I'm not going to wait for the crowd to clear out this time. I am not going to let him get me alone.

I scan the crowd for my so-called father, if I get this over with now maybe at least none of my teammates will be out of the locker room yet. I see him waiting next to an equipment shed, doing something with his phone. Work emails, no doubt. I approach him and patiently wait for him to finish.

"Well." Marcus pockets his phone and straightens his tie. "That was pathetic."

I bow my head in deference. "Yes sir."

"This is not little league, Tobias. That display tonight was an embarrassment. And with scouts here to observe you. This was your opportunity to prove that you were worth all that I have put into this little hobby of yours. Worthless," he spits. "You may have just thrown away your future. I certainly will not be footing the bill for an ungrateful little good-for-nothing. What do you have to say for yourself?"

I grit my teeth and ball my fist. And suddenly I am so angry, and the sense of security provided by the crowd milling around makes me bolder, and before I can stop myself, I hiss, "Maybe you should have thought of how important this game was before I saw you a few days ago."

Marcus grabs me by the wrist and I stiffen, angling my injured shoulder away from him. "Listen, you little shit, I did not raise you to push blame for your own mistakes."

"No," I grind out, "you raised me to take the blame for yours."

He yanks my arm again, and I take one step forward but quickly plant my feet to the ground. "You―"

"Four!" Zeke's voice booms. Marcus and I both turn to see Zeke approaching us, and Marcus immediately releases me.

"I'll be out of town this week and will be returning late Friday night," Marcus informs me stiffly. I hear Zeke's footsteps approaching now. "I will expect you no later than ten o'clock next Saturday morning."

"Yes sir," I say automatically, even as my brain searches for any way to get out of going there next weekend. But for now, ending this little 'discussion' and putting Marcus out of my mind for the next week is good enough.

"I expect you will have your first play-off game next Friday," he adds. "Don't screw up again." The _or else_ is unspoken. Zeke comes up beside me and Marcus's demeanor changes. Toward me, at least. He won't so much as look at Zeke, but he pretends for the sake of his own reputation anyway. "Until then, son."

I nod and remain alert as he walks away, finally turning toward Zeke when Marcus has disappeared into the thinning crowd.

Zeke raises an eyebrow and claps my good shoulder. I somehow manage not to react to the pressure on my scarred flesh, protected only by a couple thin layers of fabric. "That looked intense," Zeke says. "Was the old man giving you a hard time about the game?" Zeke must not have seen enough to realize just how intense that conversation really was, because despite his words, there is no hint of concern.

"He doesn't really tolerate failure," I admit.

Zeke shrugs. "Everyone has an off night once in a while. Don't sweat it." We start walking back toward the field. Zeke wiggles his eyebrows. "Ready to party?"

I am strung up tight from all the events of the night, especially the encounter with Marcus, and I am ready to let loose a bit and forget it all. "Hell yeah I am."

"That's what I like to hear," Zeke whoops.


	36. Chapter 36

_A/N: You guys... I don't know how to tell you just how happy your reviews make me. Guests, I wish I could message you to thank you "personally" but I can't respond to guest reviews so just know it means a lot to me. I am having a lot of fun with this story._

 _I know everyone wants Uriah to wake up soon and I'm trying to get there. The story seems to kind of be writing itself and has added a couple chapters more in before we get to that point._

 _Anyway... enjoy the party!_

* * *

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX**

* * *

 ** _ **FOUR**_**

* * *

Zeke gave up his car to his mom's boyfriend for the weekend, so he rides with me to Christina's house. Since Hana is staying here in Chicago for now, they decided Harrison would visit every other weekend. I'm really wishing Zeke wasn't in the car right now, because he is currently going on about the girl that approached me on our way out to the parking lot.

"I can't believe you said no!" he exclaims. "She was hot!"

"I said I'd go to Christina's party," I tell him. Again.

Zeke rolls his eyes. "Who cares about the party?"

"If I recall correctly, you did," I remind him.

"Whatever. You still would have ended up at a party."

"Yeah," I grumble. "With people from my old school, and my old team, and goddamn Eric Coulter."

"Who?" It's dark and my eyes are on the road, but I can just picture the scrunched-up face that Zeke must be making right now.

"The asshole from outside the locker rooms," I remind him not-so-patiently.

"Oh. So? That chick was clearly inviting you out for more than just a party," he says, his smile audible in his voice. "Seriously, Four, you were crazy to pass that up. When was the last time you got laid?"

"Zeke," I warn him.

"What? Come on, man, give me some details. I tell you everything."

Unfortunately, he does. "And I really wish you wouldn't."

"Just gimme a name then."

"No."

Zeke is quiet and for one blissful minute, I think he has given up. And then he says ― no, he _shouts_ , "No way!" I glance at him with a confused look and he keeps yelling. "You've gotta be kidding me. Most eligible bachelor of Dauntless High, a virgin. Tell me I'm wrong."

I feel my face flush and a feeling of panic. "What?! Just because I don't brag about it doesn't mean I haven't."

"Uh huh," Zeke says with obvious sarcasm. "Again, tell me I'm wrong."

My heart is pounding. Because he's right, but I really never wanted to admit to that. It isn't that I haven't had opportunities; I've had plenty. And I've done...other things. But Tris is the first girl I trusted enough to let see me without a shirt, and I care too much for her to try and jump into too much too fast.

"Don't worry, man," Zeke chortles. "We'll do something about that."

"I don't need your help, Zeke," I snap. "Just drop it."

Zeke holds his hands up. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," he says. Then he smirks. "For now. But I'm not letting you get away with turning down another girl like that Vanessa. Man, I should have offered to go with her in your place."

"I thought you liked Shauna," I snap. Earlier tonight, in the locker room, Zeke had just confessed to me that he had feelings for Shauna. She has been a great support to him through this whole ordeal with Uriah and goes with him to the hospital to visit almost every day after practice.

"I do, I do," Zeke says. "Doesn't mean I can't look and besides, I haven't even asked her out yet."

"Zeke," I warn him. "Shauna is your friend, and she's my friend, too. So you have to cut all this player shit out if you want anything with her. Or else you're only going to hurt her."

"Fine, chill, man. I got it," Zeke grumbles.

* * *

An hour into the party, I am on my fourth beer. My conversation with Zeke on the way here did nothing to calm me down after dealing with Eric, Mom and Marcus, and losing the game, and my shoulder injury, but the alcohol does.

Tris looks good tonight… really good. It's getting harder to keep myself away from her and I keep reminding myself that she doesn't want anyone to know about us yet. I stand off to the side and watch her play a drinking game with Lynn and some people whose names I don't remember. I forget that I've finished my beer until I go to take a sip and come up with nothing. So I go to the back porch to recycle the can and get another drink. I should probably get a soda this time, I think, so that I don't end up doing anything stupid.

Zeke comes up next to me on my way to the cooler. "Brittany Emery has been eyefucking you all night," he says, nudging my bad arm with his elbow. I wince away from him.

"So?"

Zeke grabs two beers from the cooler and tosses me one. I set it on the porch railing so I can open it with one hand.

"Come on," he says, "maybe you could take care of your little problem."

"Not exactly at my best tonight if you hadn't noticed," I remind him, gesturing at the sling my left arm rests in.

"Even better. She can do all the work."

I roll my eyes and am about to retort when I hear a whiny voice that makes me tense up.

"Well, look who's here. Didn't think you'd want to show your face tonight, Eaton," Peter says from behind me. "We'd have finished out the season undefeated if it wasn't for you."

I clench my jaw and give him my best glare. "Who do you think kept us undefeated as long as we were? It wasn't you," I remind him.

"Four will still carry us through the playoffs," Zeke says.

"Unless he gets another boo-boo and pusses out again," Peter says.

"I've seen you benched for less," Zeke scoffs. "Injuries are a part of the game. That's why he should have had a decent quarterback as backup."

"Yeah, and who's fault was that? He got me suspended," Peter snaps, pointing a finger at me.

I roll my eyes. "I wasn't the one charging down the hallway knocking over anyone in my way. You did that to yourself, Peter."

Peter huffs. "Sure, keep telling yourself that, golden boy. I know it was you who put that smoke bomb under my car."

"I don't know anything about it, Peter."

"Yeah, right. I saw your Mustang driving out of my neighborhood the night before."

"Wasn't me," I lie. "I don't have the only classic Mustang in town, you know."

"Right. I'm sure it was another Mustang. Especially since I not only saw you driving, I clearly saw Tris Prior in the driver's seat. You get her into bed yet? We can compare notes. Invite Al to the party."

"Leave Tris out of this," Zeke growls.

I clench my good hand into a fist. "What does Al have to do anything?" I ask in a low voice.

"Oh, you haven't heard?" Peter says with false innocence. "He told me and the other guys all about what he and Tris got up to today."

"And what was that?" Zeke grinds out.

"Why should I tell you that?" Peter grins. He finally grabs a beer out of the cooler and with a sarcastic salute, he walks away, whistling. If I had use of both arms, I'd beat him down right now.

Zeke curses under his breath and the look on his face is murderous. He turns to me. "I think we need to find Al. What kinda bullshit rumors is he spreading about Tris? I'm gonna kick his ass. Come on."

* * *

A half hour later, Zeke is in the kitchen getting cleaned up from the fight he got into with Drew. I got a couple hits in myself, I really wish I hadn't been incapacitated with one arm in a sling. No one knows where Al disappeared to, the coward. It turned out he had been telling stories that he had felt Tris up while they supposedly made out during his seven minutes in heaven dare today. For a minute I felt betrayed by Tris. Surprisingly it was Zeke who used logic to debunk Al's claims; he pointed out that he knew for a fact they were only in there for seven minutes, so there was no way they could have done all that and also snooped through Reyes's car to find so many interesting things.

I lean back against the porch railing, drinking half of the fresh beer I just grabbed from the cooler before I come up for air. This is my sixth beer… or is it my seventh? Or eighth? I don't even know. Maybe it's good that I was out of the fight before it began, because I'm tripping over my own feet and my body doesn't seem to want to do what it's told in general.

None of my friends are around here so I am just standing here, counting down the minutes until I am supposed to meet Tris in the laundry room. She's already down there waiting for me but we can't really be seen going off together. I hate that, having to hide. Cause Tris is the best. She is so sexy and kind, and smart even if she doesn't realize it, and beautiful, and brave, and awesome.

And so I am just standing here drinking another beer and wishing I was already with Tris. My reflexes are getting even slower and the ground is unstable beneath my feet and making me sway a bit so I lean back on the porch railing.

Then I realize that I have been daydreaming about Tris for a while and I was supposed to meet her five minutes ago now. So I quickly chug the rest of my beer and toss the can in the recycling, except for that it lands a foot to the right. I shrug it off and start toward the laundry room and I stumble, I think one of the boards on the deck might be a little loose or something.

Just as soon as I have gotten my balance someone falls right into me and crutches clatter to the ground. I manage to keep my balance and hold the girl up too. Of course, it is Lauren.

"Hi, Four," she says in a weird low voice. "I'm glad I bumped into you."

She hangs onto my arm to keep her balance. "Why's that?" I ask.

"I just thought we could spend some time together, silly," she says. "I can make you feel better."

"Feel better?" I ask as I help her to reach the railing, even though it's only a couple feet away.

"Mmm-hmm," she hums as I bend down to grab her crutches. I stand back up and am meaning to hand them to her when she lunges for me.

I was not expecting her hands around my neck and I was not expecting her lips on mine. And I just stand there for a second letting her kiss me while my brain catches up. Then I want to push her off but she has a broken leg and would fall on her ass if I did. So I try to grab her upper arm with my right hand to move her away from me, but I only have the one free hand. So I hold her in place and take a big step back from her.

"What was that about?" I say, letting go of her arm and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I can feel her spit all over the outside of my mouth and I don't want it there, I didn't want her at all.

"Come on, Four, just relax," she purrs. And then she starts babbling something about being perfect together or something, but I am not listening because I see Tris standing at the back door to the house just a few yards away from us with her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised. Her face is all but expressionless and I can't get a read on her. With Lauren still rambling at me and me still not listening to a word she's saying, Tris turns and walks back into the house.

"I'm not interested, Lauren," I say, dismissing her. I pay no attention to whatever she is saying as I walk away and into the house to find Tris.

* * *

Inside the house I don't see Tris anywhere. I wander around for a minute, dodging that Brittany girl Zeke mentioned, until I decide to try the laundry room even though I know it's too much to hope for.

Except it isn't, because I walk in and find Tris sitting on top of the washing machine.

"Wondered what was taking you so long, ladies' man," Tris says. "Close the door."

I do as I am told and start toward her. My nerves and all the beer I drank are not a good combination and I really hope this queasy feeling doesn't lead to me puking all over Christina's laundry room floor.

"Tris," I say, "that wasn't what it looked like. She dropped her crutches and I went to pick them up and then suddenly she was all over me. I didn't mean to kiss her, I swear. Or let her kiss me. Or―"

"Calm down, Tobias," Tris says. "I trust you, and I know what Lauren is like. I'm not mad."

"You're not?" I ask, feeling a bit confused. She shakes her head no. "You… you're not jealous?" I remember how I felt when I heard what Al was saying, even if it didn't make sense.

"No," she says. "Now stop wasting time, we can't be gone too long. Get over here and kiss me."

So I forget about Lauren, and Al, because kissing Tris is much more fun.


	37. Chapter 37

**CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN**

* * *

 ** _ **TRIS**_**

* * *

Tobias storms in the next morning without knocking. He has spent so much time here over the past month that such formalities have become unnecessary. I am sitting in the kitchen when he arrives, and I look up, startled.

"What's wrong?" I ask, not bothering with a greeting.

"Peter," he seethes. "It had to be Peter."

"What did he do?" I ask, feeling heavy. I can't stand that guy.

Tobias reaches out his hand and I take it without question and allow him to lead me out to the driveway.

I gasp when I see the driver's door of his car. The previously flawless black paint is now marred by four long scratches in varying depths. "He keyed your car," I whisper. I can imagine how angry I would be if I found such vandalism on my own truck. I have worked hard on that truck, just as Tobias has on his Mustang, so I can understand the fury I see in Tobias's eyes. I squeeze his hand. "Well, I have everything we need, except the paint, and we can use my garage to keep rain and dirt off while it dries. I guess that gives us another project, doesn't it? Another excuse to spend even more time together." I smirk up at him and bump his hip.

Some of the anger drains from Tobias's eyes and is replaced with amusement. "Thank you, Peter," he snickers. He starts to lead me back to the house and pauses. "Is Marlene here?"

"Yep," I answer.

"Let's go to the garage. Take inventory of equipment and supplies, just to be sure."

I laugh as I dig the garage key out of my pocket and lead him to the door.

* * *

The week passes quickly. My English test on _Catcher in the Rye_ is handed back with a big red 'A' on it, and Tobias pulls me into an empty classroom on the way to lunch to celebrate. I return to the cheerleading squad, although I am not permitted to participate in any stunts that could aggravate last month's neck injuries. Marlene does not question the time Tobias spends at my house helping me with my math homework and working on his car; after realizing that my garage and interest in vintage cars was a good excuse to spend time with me, he decided to add a few other upgrades to the list. And in preparation for next week's basketball team tryouts, Zeke invites Shauna and me to play basketball with himself and Tobias one night after practice.

The most exciting news is that Uriah, who I still visit every two or three days, shows the first signs of responsiveness. I don't really know much about comas, but when Marlene and I visit Wednesday night I swear I feel him squeeze my hand. It is weak, but it is the first time in all these weeks that he has shown any sign of awareness whatsoever, and it takes everything in me not to run screaming through the halls of the cafeteria to tell Zeke right that instant. He must go to the cafeteria twice per visit; like Uriah, Zeke is a bottomless pit.

"Tris," Marlene says, watching me fidget in my seat, "go down and find Zeke. I'll sit with Uriah, see if it happens again."

So I speed walk down the halls, since running would probably not be well received by the hospital staff. There is a crowd waiting for the elevator and patience is something I do not have right now, so I detour to the stairwell and run down eight flights of stairs to the ground level where the cafeteria is.

I quickly spot Zeke in the dining area, now nearly finished with his plate of food, and he just about squeezes the life out of me with his hug when I tell him what happened.

"I didn't tell you because I thought I was imagining it," Zeke says when we sit back down together at the table, "but yesterday, he turned his head and I could have sworn it was because he heard me."

"Maybe he did," I grin. "Maybe he'll wake up soon."

"Yeah," Zeke says. "I hope so. Maybe in time for Thanksgiving." He frowns. "Though I expect he'll have to stay at the hospital a while longer either way, won't he?"

"Probably," I say. "Just think how upset he'll be if they won't let him eat all the Turkey Day food."

Zeke gives me a genuine smile showing the dimple in his right cheek. "I'm still hungry," he says. "Have you eaten?"

"No, Mar and I were going to eat when we got home."

"You never told me," he says. "Why is Mar staying with you, anyway?"

"If you want to know, you should ask Marlene."

Zeke shakes his head. He won't ask her. He'll be too afraid that whatever it is might make Marlene cry, and he doesn't do tears. Except for with me. He will for me. "Come on," he says, "I'll buy you a sandwich or something. You've gotta be hungry now you're back to cheer practice."

We tease each other, just like we always used to, as we take our trays through the food line and I realize how much I have missed Zeke. I have seen him at school and sometimes in the evenings and weekends as well, but always with a group of people and it just hasn't been the same. Zeke and I have always been close, my best friend second to Uriah.

We once again find a table to sit at and Zeke stuffs his mouth with his hamburger as if he hasn't eaten in a week. "So, how are you holding up?" I ask him before taking a bite of my turkey sandwich.

"Fine," he says automatically.

I glare at him. "I'd think you'd know better than to lie to me, Ezekiel."

"Sorry," he says sheepishly. "I've gotten used to… well, you know how it is. I miss him, Tris."

"Me too," I say, looking down at my food. "I'm sorry I haven't been around more."

"Don't be. You had enough of your own shit to deal with. I'm the one who should be sorry, I've hardly checked in on you. I mean I at least have Mom, and Shauna."

I raise an eyebrow. "And Shauna?" I repeat, feeling a smile creep up on the corners of my mouth. "Is there something I should know?"

Zeke smirks. "Not yet. But I was thinking, maybe I might ask her out?"

I simultaneously feel giddy with excitement for Shauna, who has been in love with Zeke for longer than I can remember, and worried for her. And my smile falls as worry wins out. "You sure that's a good idea? She's your friend, Zeke. If you hurt her―"

"Chill, Bea. I already got the lecture from Four. What, do you guys all think I'm incapable of being in a relationship or something?"

"Well…" I trail off, surprised at the look on Zeke's face. He almost looks… hurt? "You don't exactly have a great track record. The longest you've ever dated a girl was three weeks, Zeke. What's changed?"

"A lot," he says. He lazily dips a french fry into a pool of ketchup. "I feel like I have a connection with her. You know, the night of the accident, Shauna was the one who kept me from going out of my mind. She always knows, you know? Like, she knows when I need a hug, she knows when to talk and when to just be there and not say anything. She's stuck around and kept me company around here almost every day, no matter how much of a dick I am sometimes. I just really think I could get used to that. And I've always been attracted to her, of course."

"Of course," I say. I can't stop the smile from creeping onto my face. "Look at you. My little Zekey is growing up," I tease.

"Shut up," he mutters, but he is smiling too. "How about you, Trissy?" I throw a chip at him for using that name, he knows I hate it. Which is exactly why he used it. "You interested in anyone?"

I freeze. "You sure that's a safe subject Zeke?" I ask, nerves rising.

Zeke shrugs. "You and my brother broke up what, a month and a half ago? And you told me that he said he was interested in someone."

"Yeah," I say, "that was why he came over that night." I told Zeke and Hana the general reason Uriah came by that night, but left out the details. I am not sure if that was for his privacy, or mine. I sip my soda trying to buy myself time to figure out how to answer questions about my love life.

"What do you think of Four?" Zeke looks at me hopefully. I nearly spit out my drink, but somehow manage to play it off, I think. "He's a good guy, you guys have gotten to know each other well with all the math homework or whatever, he's single…" _He's gorgeous,_ I add in my head.

"Wouldn't that bother you though?" I ask. "Wouldn't it be breaking some sort of guy code or something? He's friends with Uriah."

Zeke pops his last french fry into his mouth. "I don't know about Uri, but I don't see a problem. It's not like you're cheating. I just don't want to see you with another asshole like Peter."

"I think everyone can agree with that," I say. I feel light at the idea that Zeke has told me he would approve of me and Tobias being together, but I still want Uriah to know before anyone else, so I scramble to end the conversation. "Come on, let's get back up there. I left Marlene to sit with Uri and I bet she's getting lonely by now."

* * *

Marlene is quiet on the drive home. As soon as we get into the house, she heads downstairs to her room, saying she's tired, and I go to my own room as well and text Four. He has dinner with his father tonight, but should be getting out of there soon. I am anxious to know that he came out of the meeting unharmed and I want to tell him about what happened with Uriah, and my conversation with Zeke, so I ask him to come by. If I'm lucky, Marlene will be asleep―being six weeks pregnant, she is always tired―and if she happens to still be awake we can always use the excuse of a homework crisis.

After I send the text message, I go downstairs to fold the laundry that has been gathering wrinkles in the dryer. As I am pulling my stuff out of the dryer, Marlene comes up behind me with her own basket of dirty clothes. She offers to help me fold the clothes, and we take them up to my room.

The whole time we work together, Marlene is quiet just like in the car. As I put the clothes away in the closet and dresser, I notice Marlene wringing her hands. "Something on your mind, Mar?"

She hesitates, then lets out a breath. "Yeah, actually, I needed to talk to you about something, Tris. I've been feeling really bad that I haven't told you this sooner."

"Okay…" I say. I climb up to sit on my bed, and Marlene sits facing me.

"Okay, there's no easy way to say this. And you've been so kind to me, which I don't know, just made me more scared."

I'm starting to get nervous with all this build-up. "Whatever it is, just say it."

Tears well in Marlene's eyes. "The baby is Uriah's," she whispers. I freeze, and for a second all the memories of the betrayal I felt when Lauren tried to sink her claws into Uriah last spring flood through me. But then I see Marlene's face, scared and hopeful and begging for forgiveness. I remember that this isn't like it was back then, because Uriah and I were over.

But I have to be sure. "Please be honest with me, Marlene… did anything happen with you and Uriah when he and I were still together?"

"No," she says quickly. "No, I would never do that to you. But I liked him...before. And I didn't even mean for anything to happen when it did. Tris, do you hate me?"

She is so sincere and I flash back to how hard she took it when the accident happened, and the way she looks at him when we visit―looks I never really noticed in the moment―and I can't hate her. I can't even really be angry. And I shouldn't anyway. I'm with Tobias now, and I am happy.

I can see her surprise when I reach out and hug her. "Of course I don't hate you. You're one of my best friends. Besides, I think you two are kind of perfect for each other." She hugs me back fiercely and sniffles. I see the relief on her face when we pull back and think about my own secrets.

My phone chimes out a text message notification and I know it must be Tobias. I glance down to see that he will be here in twenty minutes. I'm so tired of keeping this secret, and if Zeke was suggesting I should give Tobias a chance, certainly Marlene won't judge me for it either. I wanted Uriah to know first, but I'm sure that Marlene felt the same about the pregnancy.

I make a decision. "As long as we are sharing secrets… I have one to tell you, too."


	38. Chapter 38

_A/N: Your reviews are just... wow, so amazing. I am not always the best at responding to every review but please know that I do read all of them and they all motivate me to write more and update faster. I have so much planned for this story and I'm just so excited to share it with you!_

 _Also... t_ _here's a section in this one that is a bit more adult than what I have written so far. Didn't really plan for this chapter to go where it did, it just happened. I don't think it's too explicit, but the sexual situation is there, so I put a "_ _ **/XOXO/**_ " _at the beginning and end of that part so you know what to skip over if you prefer not to read that sort of thing or are not of an appropriate age to do so. I do intend to keep the T-rating, so anytime I dip my toes into more mature territory, I'll warn you._

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT**

* * *

 ** _ **FOUR**_**

* * *

When Marcus told me to meet him at a restaurant, I knew he wouldn't dare touch me tonight. Which is exactly what I told Tris this morning, but I know she's still anxious. Not that I mind going over there. I'm just not sure what excuse she will have given Marlene for me showing up at almost 10 pm.

I don't like having to hide my relationship with Tris, and at first I wished Tris didn't want to wait for Uriah to wake up. But now, I keep turning my mother's comments over in my mind. Once we were at home I tried to get more information from Mom but she's like a steel trap. I still don't know anything more about my parents' secrets than I did before. I know what kind of pain Marcus has put me through and I don't want to think about what else he might be capable of, and I hate the idea of him even knowing Tris exists, let alone that she is important to me.

But even if there is another good reason to keep things to ourselves, I still hate it.

I pull into Tris's driveway and kill the engine. Climbing out and swinging my backpack over my shoulder, I stop momentarily to run my fingers over the gashes in the paint of the driver's door. Tris and I won't have the chance to fix it this weekend as I have to spend Saturday night at Marcus's house. I close my eyes and remind myself that I will turn 18 in August. Ten more weekend visits, including this one. I can survive ten more visits. I open my eyes, push the bastard out of my mind, and slip through the narrow path between the house and detached garage.

After quickly knocking at the side door, I let myself into the kitchen. Tris is sitting on the counter with her bare feet dangling, smiling at me. Her hair falls in waves around her shoulders, and she looks so comfortable in her shorts, t-shirt and zip-up hoodie. I could never tire of seeing her just like this, so bright and happy. The contrast to the Tris I knew a few weeks ago has made it clear how lonely she has been living alone in this house.

A few feet away, Marlene scoops rich chocolate ice cream into a bowl. Even with her now living at Tris's I am not used to seeing her like this―pink flannel pajamas and a ratty old t-shirt, no makeup on her face and her hair pulled into a messy ball on top of her head. Mar grins at me and shoots a strange look at Tris.

"Hi, Four," Tris says, hopping off the counter. Her feet hit the floor with a slap.

"Yeah, hi, Four," Marlene sings, drawing out my name. "You know, I have never met such a dedicated math tutor. Late night house calls and all."

I freeze. "Um…" I straighten up. "Yeah, well, Tris said she was having a bit of a crisis," I try to explain, being careful not to make it sound like a question, "and I had to have dinner with my dad tonight so…"

Marlene bursts out laughing and Tris grins at me. Her bare feet pad quietly against the tile floor. "It's fine," Tris tells me, wrapping her arms around my middle. "I told Marlene about us."

Relief floods through me. "You did?"

"Mmhmm," Tris hums, leaning her head against my chest and sighing happily when I hug her back.

I look up and see Marlene adding weird things to her bowl of ice cream. Gummy worms, okay, sure. Canned pineapple seems an odd choice with chocolate ice cream. But… "Did you just put potato chips in your ice cream?" I deadpan.

"Yeah," Marlene grins. She frowns. "We ran out of barbeque, but sour cream & onion should do."

I gape at her. "I know," Tris says, pulling away from me. "It's disgusting."

"I can't help it," Marlene shrugs. "I suppose pickles would make for a better cliche, but baby wants what it wants."

"Baby?!" I choke out.

"Yep," Marlene says.

"You're pregnant?"

"Yep. That's why Tris had to take me in. I told her earlier tonight that she could tell you, but this was much more fun. Keep it secret for now though, okay?"

I'm struck dumb and have no idea what to say, so I just nod at her.

Marlene picks up her very weird ice cream sundae and grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge. "I'll be downstairs if anyone needs me," she says. "But I have a feeling that you two can entertain yourselves without my help." She winks and strolls past us, but then she stops at the door and throws over her shoulder, "And don't forget to use protection!"

I look back to Tris and raise my eyebrows.

Tris shrugs. "It's been an eventful evening."

* * *

Tris and I sit on her bed facing each other. I am trying to wait patiently but Tris seems at a loss. "I don't know where to start," she finally says.

"Well," I say, "so, Marlene is pregnant."

Tris chuckles. "Yeah, that's old news for me."

"Apparently." My irritation is already audible, but I don't much care.

"Tobias," Tris sighs. "I didn't know she was going to spring it all on you like that. I thought I'd get to explain everything when we were alone. It was her secret, not mine."

"Yeah, that's true," I admit. Tris brings our joined hands to her mouth and kisses my fingers. I roll my eyes playfully because I can't bring myself to admit how much I liked it. "Start at the beginning, I guess."

* * *

"And then," Tris tells me, "Zeke asks me what I think of _you._ "

"Me?!" I repeat, my thumb halting where it was tracing circles on her hand. "Why?"

"Because you're a good guy, and we know each other well, and you're single, and I don't know. I wanted to add on that you are also the hottest guy at our school, but I somehow managed to hold my tongue."

I smirk at her. "I am?"

"Of course," she grins. "What, you didn't think I liked you for something less shallow like your personality, or because you're smart or something like that, did you?"

"Of course not. I just thought you wanted the star quarterback. You know, for the status boost."

"Right, the status boost," Tris laughs. "Forgot all about that. Must have overlooked that when we decided to keep this to ourselves for now."

Just when I was seeing some silver lining to the whole secrecy thing, it looks like we may soon be able to reveal the truth about our relationship. Even with my worry about Marcus, I feel hopeful. "So, Uriah might be waking up soon, and Zeke already approves. This is good, right?" I won't mention that Zeke probably just wants me to get laid. Then again, it's not like Tris would be some one-night-stand. Maybe my lack of experience is what makes him trust me with Tris. I know how much he cares for her. His reaction to Al's lies made it obvious enough. I still haven't told Tris about that and I don't think Zeke has either. I probably should… but it would only upset her and I can deal with it myself if the coward ever shows back up at school.

"Definitely good." Tris leans forward with her weight on her good arm, and I draw closer to meet her lips with mine. All too soon, she pulls back and returns to her previous position. I run a hand through my hair as I force my mind back to the conversation we were having.

"So, how did all that lead to Marlene knowing about us?"

Tris chews on her lower lip. I know it's a sort of nervous habit and now isn't the time, but damn if it doesn't make me want to be the one to bite it. I reach out and run my thumb across it to make her release it, and she lightly kisses my finger as I do.

"I haven't told anyone this…" She takes a deep breath. "So, that night… the accident… you know how I told you that Uriah came over because he wanted to tell me that he was interested in someone?"

"Yeah," I say, remembering her talking to me about that one day when we went to her spot by the river instead of studying. "That was part of why you wanted to tell Uriah about us before anyone else."

Tris nods. "Well, he said more than that. He told me that he slept with someone."

I search her eyes for jealousy or anger, but if she felt that way at first, she doesn't now, and I am relieved.

"I had obviously known for a while that Marlene was pregnant," she continues, "but…"

Wait… Uriah slept with someone before the accident, which was more than a month ago… Marlene is six weeks pregnant… and Marlene told me a while ago that she liked a guy who already had a girlfriend…

"The baby is Uriah's," I realize aloud.

"Wow," Tris chuckles sardonically, "you worked that out quick. I feel like an idiot."

"Don't," I reassure her. "I might have had a little more information than you did." Seeing her questioning look, I add, "Zeke and Shauna tried to set Marlene and me up on a date a while ago, when you and Uriah were still together. She may have admitted that she liked a guy who had a girlfriend. Plus, the context of this conversation gave me some clues."

"Still," Tris sighs. "Anyway, when we got home, I don't know. I guess having some sign that Uriah might wake up soon, that it might be time for her to tell him soon… when we got home, Marlene confessed to me that it was Uriah's baby."

Even though I decided earlier that Tris didn't look angry or jealous, I feel a uneasy weight in my stomach. "So… how do you feel about that?"

"It reminded me of something that happened in the past, at first. I felt betrayed. But only for a minute, because it was my choice to end things with Uriah. Nothing happened till after we had broken up, and honestly, it didn't take me too much longer to move on, did it?"

"I suppose not." I'm watching her carefully, I want to ask her more, especially about that comment about the past. But she's telling me things she hasn't told anyone else. She told me the other night, when she caught me kissing Lauren at that party, that she trusted me and she is proving it to me once again.

"Anyway, I dunno, she was so worried that I would hate her. I don't know if I just wanted to show her that we were still friends, or if I was just tired of hiding even in my own home, but it felt right to repay her for her honesty, with a secret of my own. Well, _our_ own. And she was totally happy for us. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, I don't mind," I grin, scooting closer to her. "I mean, I would rather decide together before we tell everyone else, but I have to say… I am glad we don't have to worry anymore if she catches us doing _this_ …"

I lean in and slide my nose along hers. The moment our lips meet I forget about everything else but me, and her, and the way her soft lips feel against mine. My left hand reaches around her back to pull her closer and her hand fists my t-shirt as I lower her back onto the bed, my right hand pressed to the mattress for support. Tris pulls me down with her by her grip to my shirt and I hover over her, now propped only by my elbow and only so that I don't crush her small body under my weight.

My lips leave hers only to kiss along her jaw, up to her ear, down her neck. Everywhere her fingers touch, my skin warms and tingles. Her hands move over my back and there is no one else I would trust to touch me there. I _want_ her, in a way I haven't felt for anyone before. Not just some kind of mindless physical drive but a real, specific desire. Not for "someone," just for _her._ I wonder, not for the first time but more consciously and clearly than ever before, if this is what falling in love feels like.

 **/XOXO/**

Her hands glide feather-light over the scabbed stripes that litter my back with a healing warmth, her touch becoming firmer as she brings her hands around my sides. As my hand drifts down her stomach and dips just barely below the waist of her jeans, hers slide up my chest, lifting the hem of my t-shirt and she pushes her palm against me. Fuck… too much? I must have been moving too fast, she must think I'm a dick. I sit up and look away from her, breathing heavily.

"Tris, I―" I start to apologize but she hasn't taken her hand off me and the next thing I know, I am feeling the air cool my skin and hearing the soft sound of my t-shirt hitting the floor.

She looks at me and bites her lip, and suddenly my hands are moving faster than my brain can process and I'm practically ripping her shirt off of her. But the sleeve gets stuck on the cast on her arm and by the time we get it unstuck we are both laughing, and she's pulling me back down on the bed with her. I rest my forehead against her shoulder while my hand explores her bare skin with a mind of its own. Then we're kissing again, no holds barred, and when my fingers end up at her back, fidgeting with her bra clasp, she arches her back to allow my fingers room to undo the clasp. And thankfully that's something I have done before ― not with Tris, but I'm not completely clueless ― so I manage to get the thing off of her without making a total fool of myself.

Propping myself on my right elbow, I pull back just to look at her. She is just so fucking beautiful, I think I stop breathing. With my palm flat against her flat stomach I run my hand slowly up until I am cupping her breasts, experimenting with her body's reactions, listening to her soft little gasps and feeling more than a little cocky (no pun intended) at the response I can elicit from her until I just can't take it any more and crash my lips against hers again.

I'm hard, so painfully hard and straining against my jeans and I _need_ some sort of relief. I press myself into her leg and grind against her. I know she can feel me and I'm about to ask her if this is okay but words are not needed because she's already unbuttoning my jeans, then she's the one asking if it's okay and I just nod and then her soft, petite hand is wrapped around me and I can't think about anything but Tris, Tris, Tris and how fucking good, no, _unbelievably fucking incredible_ she is making me feel and how I want to make her feel just as amazing.

I fumble with the button of her jeans, you'd think it would be easier than the bra clasp but I'm significantly more distracted right now. But I get it open… only to be rendered useless with how the pleasure is building to heights never achieved by myself, or anyone else, before. All the while her lips never leave my skin, concentrating especially on this extra sensitive spot near my collarbone that I had no idea about before just now.

Tris covers me with her hand to contain the mess and keeps stroking until she's sure I am spent. I flop back on the pillows, panting, while she plucks a tissue from a box on her nightstand and cleans her hand up. I feel… incomplete… until her skin is once again pressed against mine and her ear is against my chest, listening to the beat of my racing heart.

 **/XOXO/**

"That wasn't fair," I whine. "I wanted to get you off too."

I feel Tris smile. "Next time. But trust me, I enjoyed that as much as you did," she says.

"I am 100% certain that is not true."

"Okay," Tris laughs, "you're right, I probably didn't enjoy it _as much_ as you did." Tris shivers, and we're still topless but grabbing her shirt is just about the last thing I want to do. Instead, I make her sit up for a moment so I can grab the throw blanket from the end of the bed.

Tris stops me and runs her finger over that spot near my collarbone that makes me shiver. "Oops," she says sheepishly, "I'm gonna be sad that I don't get to publicly take credit for that mark tomorrow. Think it'll get girls like Lauren to back off anyway?"

I crane my head at an odd angle but find that I'll have to check it out in a mirror later, because I can't see it. "Do you think there's really anything that can deter a girl like Lauren?"

"No, not really," she scowls. And it makes me kinda relieved to see that reaction from her. While on one hand I have been relieved that she trusts me and didn't start a jealous cat fight when she caught Lauren practically assaulting me, another part of me wants to know why she isn't jealous. Because when I heard that rumor that she made out with Al, I wanted to rip his head off.

We get back into snuggling position, dragging the blanket over us. Tris's contented sigh is one of the best sounds in the world. "How was dinner with... Marcus?" she asks, wariness creeping into her voice.

"Fine, I guess," I say. "Lots of instructions and warnings about Friday's game. I told you he wouldn't hurt me tonight and he didn't."

"What does he get out of it?" she asks.

It's an odd question, and I don't understand. "Out of what?"

"Why is it so important to him that you do well in football?"

"I don't know. He's the same way with school, I have to keep a perfect four-point GPA. He just doesn't want people thinking his kid's a loser, I guess." Tris tenses at that. _Shit, fuck, damnit!_ "Tris… I'm not saying―"

"I know," she interrupts in a tight voice. "I know you don't think... "

"And you're doing so well now, too."

"Certainly won't have a four-point-oh. It's… whatever. It's just… my dad… you know?" Her voice is muffled, due to the fact her face is buried in my chest.

"Yeah," I practically whisper. "Tris, look at me," I command. She starts to lift her face from me but can't seem to bring herself to actually look up at me. "Let me see those beautiful eyes, Tris," I coax, this time gently tipping her chin up with my hand.

Her eyes are glassy, shining with tears. I sigh. "Tris, you are amazing because of who you are. I don't give a damn whether you are the head of the cheer squad or a band geek, valedictorian or a drop-out ― although, please don't drop out of school, that would be an unwise choice." She laughs at that and I smile. "Just… don't listen to anyone who doesn't love you for what's in here," I press my fingertips gently just above her left breast, "because the other shit just doesn't matter and anyone who doesn't realize that isn't worth your time."

"Okay," she says simply.

"Okay?" I repeat, that seemed too easy.

"Okay," she says again. "So long as you follow your own advice."

She sees right through me. Because she gets it ― the need to _earn_ our fathers' love, no matter how fucked up the whole concept of that is, no matter if they abandon us completely or hurt us in body, mind and soul. But I won't be a hypocrite.

"Okay," I say.

"Good."

I let Tris drift off in my arms, thinking that yeah, this is what falling in love feels like.


	39. Chapter 39

_A/N: I just want to say a big thanks to those who follow this story, have added it to their favorites, and an extra big thank you to those of you who take a minute to review! You guys are the best._

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE**

* * *

 ** _ **TRIS**_**

* * *

I am always relieved to get first period over with. More than once in the last few weeks, I have skipped it and come to school an hour late just so that I could avoid staring at Uriah's empty seat beside mine. Even with the new hope that hand-squeeze brought last night, I hate the reminder that he is… where he is… and not where he should be.

Art class is much better. I have lots of friends in Art. Zeke is in this class, and Christina, and Al. Uriah never was, so here, I don't have to miss him so much.

I take my usual seat at my usual table, next to Zeke and across from Christina. I haven't seen Al all week.

"Tris!" Christina says. "I heard the party is at your house this weekend?"

"Really," I say in a flat voice, giving Zeke the side-eye. "And who, exactly, did you hear _that_ from?"

"That's not what I said!" Zeke protests. "I said we could _ask her_ to host the party tomorrow night."

"Uh, no," Christina argues. "You said, and I quote, 'Don't worry, Tris always has my back.'"

I raise an eyebrow and glare at Zeke. He gives me this puppy-dog face that reminds me so much of Uriah and the next thing I know, I'm agreeing to this without a second thought. "Fine. I'll do it, but this is it. After this, no more parties trashing my house this season. And you're helping clean up."

"Yes, ma'am," Zeke salutes, grinning. His eyes flick to something behind me and his smile turns to a scowl. He even crosses his arms over his chest. I look over my shoulder to see what Zeke is glaring at and am surprised to find Al backing away from us looking… afraid? Of Zeke? He sits down at a table by himself in a corner of the room.

I turn to glare at Zeke and he's still watching Al...and still glaring at him. "What the hell was that about?" I hiss.

Zeke huffs. "Nothing, Tris, don't worry about it."

"It didn't look like nothing. Christina? Do you know what's got his panties in a twist?"

She looks bored and shrugs.

"Drop it, Tris," Zeke says. "I said don't worry about it."

"I can decide for myself what's worth worrying about. So just tell―"

I am interrupted by Mrs Kapoor starting class. But as soon as she finishes giving us instructions and cuts us loose to begin our charcoal drawings, I gather up my things, ignore Zeke's protests, and plop myself into the seat across from Al. We aren't exactly best friends, but he doesn't deserve to be treated like that. After what happened in Ms Reyes's van on Friday, I probably shouldn't be the one doing this ― or maybe I absolutely should be, who the hell knows ― but since it seems Zeke and Christina won't…

"Tris… uh… um…" Al stutters. I give him a look that says ' _seriously, do you want me to go back to the other table right now?'_ and he takes a very measured breath and finally says, "Hi."

"Hi, Al," I say. I arrange my charcoal pencils and drawing paper on the desk and look around for something to draw. Seeing nothing, I grab my backpack and pull out the apple I never got around to eating this morning, set it on the table and begin drawing.

"H-how are you, Tris," Al asks.

"Fine," I say. I glance up at him to see that he has the weirdest, most uncomfortable look on his face and he is just staring at me. Not drawing. Just staring. After a moment of deliberation where my own eyes are focused on my drawing and I can feel Al's still boring into me, I decide to just rip off the bandaid. "Seriously, does this have to be so weird?"

"No… I… I don't want it be, it's… it's just…"

"Just what?"

"Friday," he says. "I just really didn't think you'd want to sit… with me… after…"

"It's over with," I say. He has always been awkward but seriously, I don't ever remember it being anywhere near this bad before. "Can we just forget it and move on?"

"Well, yeah," he says, "if that's what you want then yeah… yes… yes we can do that."

I look up again to see the most relieved smile ever on his face and he is still staring at me. "Now that's settled, maybe you should start your assignment?" I suggest.

"Yes. Yes, good idea."

When I see that he has started drawing finally, though I honestly can't for the life of me tell what that picture is supposed to be (apparently charcoal is not Al's forte) I finally speak again. "I haven't seen you… since the game, actually. Where were you all week?"

"Uh… wasn't feeling well." Thank God he's over the whole staring thing, he is now focused on his 'drawing' and only occasionally flicks his eyes in my direction.

"Wow," I say. "That was three days of school you missed. You alright now? Did it ruin your weekend?"

"Mmm, yes to both." Why the hell is he so nervous again?

Feeling like I am the one making all the effort in this conversation, if you can even call it that, I just concentrate on my drawing until the end of class. Al _finally_ initiates conversation with me while I am packing up my backpack.

"So, the party's at your place on Friday?"

"Yeah. I only agreed at the beginning of class, did Zeke seriously start telling people before he even said a word to me about it?" I huff.

"No," Al says. "I just heard you all on my way in."

"Oh, good," I say. "Well… I gotta go, Al. See ya."

"See ya, Tris," he calls after me.

* * *

At Trig, I was none too pleased to see that Peter has now been allowed to return to school. I see him and Drew (who must have pissed someone off this weekend, because he's been sporting a black eye and bruised jaw) looking toward me and Four and talking/laughing a few times but try to ignore them.

In the next class, my latest physics test is returned to me with a 'B' written at the top and a 'Good job, Tris!' scrawled beneath it. It's nice that Mr. Porter is encouraging, but I feel like I should be able to manage a solid A after a month of twice-a-week tutoring sessions with Will, and disappointed in myself because I know that a B simply isn't good enough to bring my grade up as much as I need to.

When I meet Shauna, Lynn and Four at English class, Four and I try to keep our flirting to a minimum. Shauna and Lynn don't notice us but that girl Nicole, the one who suddenly changed seats the day Four arrived, gives me a few dirty looks. And true to my usual bad luck, Ms. Nelson decides that Nicole is just the perfect person to force me to work with for some stupid partner worksheet thing.

So we pull our desks together while my friends disperse around the room to their own assigned partners ― why can't we just work with our friends? I hate it when teachers do this ― and start on the worksheet. I don't like this girl. Not only has she been giving me nasty looks for the past month or so, she has also been batting her eyelashes at Four ever since he got here. Even though he pays her minimal attention at best, she can't seem to take a hint. I can't seem to stop my eyes from finding him across the room, where he is working with Ben from the football team. Good luck to him… I'm pretty sure the phrase 'dumb jock' was coined just for Ben Phillips.

"Staring at Four again? Or are you going after Ben next?" Nicole grouses.

I stare at her. "Excuse me?"

Nicole responds with a derisive laugh. "Please. You've been making eyes at Four even when you were still dating Uriah. Should've known you'd go into full-on slut mode after you two broke up. Is that why he dumped you, because you were flirting with other guys? Or maybe you cheated on him."

"What the hell?" I hiss. "I did no such thing. I would never… you have no idea what you're talking about, Nicole."

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever. I heard all about you letting Al feel you up during your little game of seven minutes." _What?!_ "Guess now I know how you get all the guys to like you."

"I didn't ― what the hell are you talking about?!"

The bell rings then and Nicole doesn't answer me, just snatches the paper from my hands. "I'll finish it myself and turn it in tomorrow. I don't need some airhead cheerleader screwing up my grade." Then she's out the door before I can answer.

I sit there, stunned and fuming, as the students file out of the class on their way to lunch. I run over and over in my head what happened at Art class. Al's weird reaction to me, the way Zeke glared at Al… Shauna and Lynn don't notice me, but Tobias does. When everyone has left the room he comes over to me. "Tris?" he says cautiously. "Are you okay?"

"I need to talk to Zeke," I snap before I storm out of the classroom.

* * *

I am no calmer by the time I get to my final class of the day: PE. I spent lunch getting Zeke to tell me _exactly_ what he knew about this rumor that Al and I did a whole-fucking-lot more than we did.

I learned several things. First, that Al went around telling people that he not only made out with me in the back of that hippie van, but that he got my shirt _and_ bra off me and I let him touch my boobs. All… in seven minutes. And second, that Zeke and Tobias both fucking knew all about this ever since the party on Friday… and didn't say a damn word to me about it.

That they defended me, debunked Al's claims, and beat up Drew for spreading the rumors only slightly tempers my anger that neither of them bothered to warn me. I barely spoke to Tobias in Spanish class. I did feel a little guilty at the kicked puppy look he gave me when he left.

"Who pissed in your cornflakes?" Shauna asks me when I snap at her in the locker room. "Is it about those rumors? Don't worry about that, people―"

"...are already calling me a slut," I hiss. "Seriously, you knew, too? And you didn't tell me?"

"Woah, chill," Shauna says, raising her hands defensively. "I just heard something in French class this afternoon. And believe me, I did not let that shit slide. Lynn about ripped those bitches to shreds, I think they're too terrified of her to repeat that bullshit again."

"And did you happen to hear how those rumors got started?" I demand. "That Al was going around telling people that shit? Did you know that Zeke and Four both knew what he was saying and didn't fucking tell me?"

Shauna shakes her head with a bewildered look on her face. I slam my locker and begin to stomp out of the room. "Tris, wait, what are you―"

"I'm going to the source," I shoot back.

* * *

 _ **ZEKE**_

* * *

Tris was pissed when she found out Four and I knew about the rumors. And that girl can have a temper, so I'm not really looking forward to seeing her in the gym.

She'll get over it. She always does. But she hasn't had time to cool off yet. I hardly tried to reason with her, but Four took it a lot harder. I'm not stupid, I know he likes her. This little incident isn't going to do him any favors, but again… she will get over it. _He_ doesn't realize that, though, so he is moody as hell.

"Just give her a few days and she'll be over it, Four," I say. Again. "I've known Tris for a long time. She always forgives me. Al, though…" I eye him across the locker room.

"Well, I'm not warning him," Four grumbles.

"Ha!" I say. "Wouldn't let you if you tried."

I slam my locker shut and Four and I walk out into the gym. We stand near the bleachers, Four looking all pissed off with that 'don't fuck with me' look on his face, which only gets worse when Al comes out of the locker room, giving us those side-glances and dragging his feet.

"Dude," I say. "Chill. I know you've got a thing for Tris but―"

He all of a sudden turns so he's facing me, looking all panicked. "What?" he says. "I don't…"

"Yeah, you do, I'm not blind. Don't worry about it, man, I got your back. Already been talking you up," I grin. Then I notice something… something that was not there yesterday. I couldn't see it with the shirt he wore earlier but in his gym clothes the collar is lower. "But you should take your own advice, asshole. Giving me shit about checking out other girls when I like…" I glance around to make sure Shauna isn't around yet, and she isn't, but I should still play it safe. "You know."

"What?" Four says again.

I flick him right in the dark purple love bite that is now visible near his collarbone. " _That,_ " I say. I look him up and down. The thing is, I do really like Shauna… and that may have played a part in me hooking up with… was it Allyson? Alyssa? Whatever, her name is not important… at the party on Friday. And fooling around with Carrie Lam the night before last. Because I've never really tried to have a relationship before and asking Shauna out would be a big step, and it scares the hell outta me.

"I don't think that's anyone's business," he scowls. He's got this look on his face where he's trying to intimidate me but it's not working. Not on me and not today.

"Aw, come on, Four. If I'm gonna ask Shauna out I'll need to live vicariously through you so you gotta learn to give up some details. Unless, of course, you grow some balls and ask Tris out, in which case I don't want―"

"Zeke!" Four growls but I've lost my train of thought anyway. Every bit of my admittedly limited focus is now on Tris. She has just come out of the locker room and the look on her face… and her eyes are like laser vision, zoned in on their target, which is… Al.

"Oooh this is gonna be good," I grin, punching Four in the arm. He winces and I realize it was the one he injured, which has to be hurting since it hasn't gotten to rest with all the practice for the playoffs. "Sorry. But, come on."

Tris is a tiny little wisp of a person, and people usually underestimate her. But, having been one of her besties for most of my life, I know better and Al and Four are about to see a new side of her. I creep my way toward them, cause Tris is already pissed at me and I don't want to come into the line of fire, but I have got to get close enough to listen in.

The look on her face alone is enough to scare away Satan's minions and her hands are balled up so tight that her knuckles are white and the edge of her cast will probably leave a mark on her palm. Soon we are close enough to make out every word she is saying.

"―think you are? Did you think your bullshit claims wouldn't get back to me? You were supposed to be my friend!" Oh, her voice at that pitch… never a good sign.

"I am, Tris, I―" Al's eyes are already all shiny like he's gonna cry. For half a second I feel bad for him, but he doesn't deserve it, so I shut that shit down real fast.

"No," Tris snaps. "Don't you dare claim to be my _friend_ , Al. _Friends_ don't make the whole school think you're a slut!"

Al winces at that. He reaches forward to put his hand on her arm but she jerks away from him, taking a step back. Next to me Four lets out some sort of weird growl and starts charging toward them and now Tris notices us.

" _Don't,_ Four," she snaps, pointing a finger at him. "I don't need your help with this. I can take care of myself. If you wanted to help me you would have fucking told me about this shit!"

Four looks like she just slapped him and takes a step back. Al takes the opportunity to try again at apologizing. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I never wanted to…" Al covers his face with both hands. "I just wanted the guys to think I was...cool...I just...I want to say that I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I don't...I don't know what's wrong with me, I...please forgive me, _please_ …"

Tris glares at him, a cold glare that makes me shiver. I remember her leaving our table at Art class just this morning to make sure Al wasn't alone, even though, after their seven minutes in hell on Friday, that shit had to be awkward. I don't see any of that mercy in her eyes right now. Al reaches for her again, and he's trying not to cry. He's never living this down.

"Stay away from me," Tris says quietly. Her face is blank. "Never talk to me again."

She storms away from him, passing not two feet from me and I grab her arm. "Tris―" I say, but she cuts me off.

"Leave me alone, Zeke," she hisses. "And make sure Four does, too." She rips her arm out of my hand and strides across the gym to Shauna while Al quietly but quickly backs away and I watch him flee to the locker room.

"Well," I say to Four, "I think we'd better give her some time to cool off." Coach calls us to gather up for a game of dodgeball. I keep talking to Four while we walk even though he is entirely non-responsive so far. "So… wanna play some b-ball after practice tonight?"

"Can't," he says robotically. "I'm tutoring Tris."

"Yeah, uh, I don't think that's happening. Did you not hear me say to give her some time to cool off?"

Four lets out this groan and I shake my head. And he claims he doesn't have a thing for her. Yeah, right.


	40. Chapter 40

**CHAPTER FORTY**

* * *

 ** _ **FOUR**_**

* * *

The party celebrating our victory in the first play-off game of the series raged well into the night, but now at nearly 1:30 in the morning, the crowd has dwindled. There are a few drunk teenagers stumbling around, and our friends have found their way home. Marlene, keeper of the keys (apparently a requirement at any party Tris hosts ― that's my girl!) is taking some of the drunk party goers wherever they need to be dropped off at, and I have helped to organize Uber rides for a few others. Nobody drives away wasted from a party at Tris Prior's house.

While I did have a couple of beers to celebrate our win against Roosevelt High, I have been careful not to go overboard. If Tris won't talk to me once the stragglers clear out of her house, I am sure I will regret that decision, but I am still holding out hope. Marlene gave me a little pep talk earlier and seems convinced that Tris is just about ready to talk it out with me. I hope she's right.

Last night, Zeke told me that Uriah has always been the only person who could coax Tris into talking before she was good and ready. I considered going over to try my luck after our little game of one-on-one, see if Tris holds me in the same regard as her ex-boyfriend, but in the end, I chickened out. If I don't rate high enough on the Tris-o-meter to garner the same magical powers of persuasion… I'd rather remain ignorant to the fact for now. Zeke insists that she'll be over it in no time. He says he's pissed her off worse than this…many times…so he should know. I say that Zeke is basically her family while she hardly knows me in comparison, and what we have is still new, so I am reluctant to get my hopes up on this.

I walk around Tris's house with a trash bag, two parts for an excuse to stick around a little longer and one part purely to suck up to her. I know she's right. I should have told her. She's just had so much to deal with lately, I thought Zeke and I could deliver justice for her and have the whole thing over and done with without piling any more stress on her plate. I didn't even think of how she would feel if she found out anyway. I certainly didn't anticipate this bothering her as much as it seems to.

When I find a beer spill in a corner of the living room carpet and mentally thank the asshole that left it there because it helps me stall for another three or four minutes. I am putting the spray bottle of carpet cleaner away under the kitchen sink when I hear Tris's voice behind me. "You didn't have to do all that."

I turn to face her. Her dress is short, and all that skin showing on those slender legs has been taunting me all night. More makeup than usual, probably thanks to Christina; I wish she wouldn't hide her face behind that stuff. Behind the mask, she looks tired, I can see it in her eyes.

"Most people would just say 'thank you,'" I retort, offering her a small smile.

She takes a few steps toward me and smirks. "I'm not most people."

"Thank God for that. I'm not a people person." I walk toward her now, meeting her in the middle but leaving a couple of feet between us, and tentatively place my hands on her hips. She doesn't push me away.

"We should talk," she says. Even though I have been waiting for her to be ready, for her to say that, my heart pounds. Those words don't have the best connotation in a boyfriend-girlfriend context.

"Lead the way."

* * *

The fact that Tris has lead me to her bedroom is a small comfort. I realize that it may simply be that she wants to talk where Marlene won't overhear, but we have had some great moments in this room.

I know I need to apologize, so I decide to do so before she can start to yell at me. "Tris, I'm sorry. I should have told you right away. I was drunk and distracted, and then, I guess you've just been dealing with so much I thought that I could deal with Al myself but he never showed up. I should have known it would get around anyway. I couldn't have been pleasant to hear it through the grapevine like that."

Tris lets out a humorless laugh. "You've got that right. Hearing it from a girl who is crushing on my boyfriend" ... _who was that? Lauren, maybe?..._ "along with accusations that Uriah must have dumped me for cheating given what a slut I am… yeah, unpleasant is one word for it."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath to try and calm myself. "Who said that to you?"

"Nicole." That doesn't make sense, Nicole doesn't like me. She was the one who called off our date. "But whatever. It doesn't matter who said it, I hate that people are thinking it. But whether you told me or not, whether you got to Al before I heard it or not, wouldn't make any difference. The rumor would have spread anyway. So that isn't the point."

I want to argue with her, I want to press for more details, I want to track down every person who has said a nasty word about Tris or spread this rumor and make them regret it. But I force all that aside, give my Tris (is she still _my_ Tris?) my full attention and just nod at her to continue.

"What I hate the most is that you thought I was too weak to handle it myself. Or hell, even to _know_ what was being said. What, were you going to just let me continue to be friends with Al, totally clueless about what he had done? Because that's bullshit, Four."

I flinch at her use of my nickname. "You know my name, Tris."

She runs her hands through her hair in frustration, or annoyance, but she acknowledges my statement with a curt nod. "I need you to realize that I have been taking care of myself for a long time now, _Tobias_. This isn't the worst thing to ever happen to me, not even the worst thing I'm dealing with _right now_ , and not only am I strong enough to handle it… I _need_ to fight my own battles. I need to be strong enough or I will sink. And I need you to believe I can."

"I know you're strong, Tris," I say, holding eye contact and willing her to see the honesty in my words. "You're the strongest person I know. I just wish you didn't have to be." Tentatively, I reach out and take her hand in mine. She lets me, looking down at our hands as our fingers lace together, and I see a hint of a smile curl the corners of her mouth.

"But I do," she says. "Don't withhold information on things that affect me, Four. And don't underestimate me."

I let the air slowly out of my lungs; I feel like I have holding my breath for days. "Noted."

"Good."

I run my thumb across her palm. "So… are we okay?"

"Yes, we're okay."

I swallow. "Does that mean I can kiss you now?"

She grins. "Please."

I don't waste any time and immediately swoop in and kiss her, soft and tender. She deepens the kiss and it quickly becomes more heated, hands roaming and clothing being shed. This is definitely the night I will return the favor for what she did with her hands the other day.

* * *

 _ **TRIS**_

* * *

The alarm sounding from Four's phone could not be any less welcome. I feel safe and comfortable and happy, and warm right through to my bones. No, even deeper than that.

Not to mention, it's 7:45 AM on a Saturday and I went to sleep only four hours ago. I had really great, fantastic, _pleasurable_ reasons for being up until 3:30 AM, but that only reinforces the fact I just want to stay in my bed with my boyfriend for another five or six hours. Even if it was only to sleep… though that would be fairly disappointing.

Last night was something I would very much like to repeat, minus the whole awkward clearing the air thing at the beginning. I thought his hands on me would satisfy the growing desire when I am near him. Instead I have a feeling that will only make it harder to hold back. I don't want to rush things between us, but I can't deny that I want him, feel pulled to him like a magnet, and sometimes it's like I'm just burning to feel his skin against mine.

Tobias has been holding me as we sleep, his bare chest against my back. The cool air of my bedroom sends a shiver down my back as Four pulls away from me to silence his alarm. I roll over as Four lays back against the pillows and settle myself into the crook of his arm, head resting on his shoulder. "Do we have to get up?" I mumble.

"Soon, yeah." I can already hear the dread creeping into his voice. Instantly I am sharing his worry. He has to spend the night at his father's house. But I want him to enjoy himself as long as possible until he has to leave, so I try not to let it show.

"At least 'soon' isn't 'now.'" I draw shapes very softly with my fingertip on his abdomen. His muscles tighten in response, revealing the well-defined muscles there, and I trace them instead.

Tobias grabs my wrist. "Stop that." His voice is stern, but when I gaze up at his face, his eyes twinkle and he is unable to completely hide the smile tugging at his lips.

I feel the corners of my mouth begin to curve upward, too. I gently begin pulling my wrist from his grasp. "Why's that? Is the big, bad Four… ticklish?"

I pinch at his sides and he tries to retaliate. We wrestle on the bed for a moment until I find myself straddling him, in nothing but a tank top and my underwear, my wrist firmly in his grasp once again. It's really not fair that I have one arm still in a cast, wasn't exactly a fair fight. But I forget about that as I take in the smile in his eyes and inside I just swell up with this… feeling… and it takes my breath away so forcefully that it scares me a little.

Again it occurs to me just how much of my skin is bare right now and I feel the blush rushing to my cheeks. My muscles tense; I don't know whether to run, or to kiss him.

"Tris?" Tobias says, brow adorably furrowed.

"We should get up." My voice is hardly louder than a whisper.

"We have a little more time," he says. "I don't have to be at Marcus's until ten."

He's right, but _that name_ is like a bucket of cold water poured over both of us. I feel it, and I can see it in his face, the way he goes from open and vulnerable to an impenetrable mask void of emotion. I release a weary sigh and place my hand on his face, running my thumb across his cheekbone. He brings his hand up to cover mine and his expression softens. Despite his earlier words, we make a silent agreement to get up and face the day.

"I'll go start breakfast," I tell him. "Just give me a minute in the bathroom then it's all yours." I have a fleeting thought that Tobias and I could shower together, but I still feel shaky from that… feeling. Tobias nods and I climb off him and out of the bed. He sits up, swings his legs over the side of the bed and grabs my hand to pull me back before I can walk away.

"Wait," he says. I look back at him. Tobias pulls me into his lap and kisses me thoroughly. He pulls away when we both need air and rests his forehead against mine as we both catch our breath. Then he leans back and smiles at me, that amazing smile of his that could make any girl swoon. "Much better," he says before he lounges back on the bed again with his hands behind his head and a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

* * *

I stare at the side door after Tobias leaves, anxiety eating at my stomach. I know it will remain for as long as he is with his father, until I hear that he is home and unharmed and the danger has passed. But if I thought I was anxious before, that feeling only spikes when my phone rings and I see that the call is from my father.

No matter what experience tells me to expect, though, I always feel hope.

"Hi, Dad," I answer, trying to sound cheerful. I make eye contact with Marlene and bring a finger to my lips. She acknowledges my silent message with a nod and continues eating her bacon and eggs.

"Hello, Beatrice." As usual, there is no hint of emotion. No warmth, no disdain, he may as well be making a business call. I hold the phone to my ear with my shoulder and wipe a sweaty hand on my pants leg. "How is school?"

"Uh," I stammer, "it's… better. I… I got an A on my English test." I should be honest, I should tell him that I don't think I can bring my grades up as much as he demands, but my need for approval wins out. Even if this will only make things worse when my final grades come.

"And you are bringing your grades up in your other classes as well?"

I bite my lip. "Yes, Dad."

"Good. Now, Beatrice, Thanksgiving is less than a week away. I need to know your plans. You told me you would spend the day with the Pedrad family. Is Uriah home from the hospital yet? Will Hana be preparing a meal?"

My eyes widen. I hadn't even given the holiday much thought recently, I had been too busy worrying about everything else that has been going on. School, cheerleading, rumors, my new relationship with Tobias, and, of course, Uriah.

"Uh… no, Uriah hasn't… woken up yet." No matter how constantly I am faced with this reality, it doesn't stop hurting. "I've been so busy catching up on my schoolwork, I hadn't given it much thought, but I doubt Hana has anything planned."

"Hmm," Dad grumbles. "Beatrice, I can get you a last minute ticket to New York if you wish. So near to the holiday, however, it would be difficult and costly. I leave the choice to you."

I swallow. I can't help but notice his lack of enthusiasm at the idea. A part of me wants to tell him yes, to fly me out to see him, because holidays are about family. At least, they should be. But I don't want to go out there only to be a burden. "No, that's alright, Dad. Thank you for the offer, but I am sure I can find a friend to include me."

"Very well. Keep up your schoolwork and stay out of trouble, hmm?"

"Yes, Dad." And a moment later we are saying goodbye and I hear the call disconnect.

Marlene pushes her plate away and props her elbow on the table, her chin in her hand. She just watches me as I run my hand through my hair and frown at my phone. "Spill," she says.

Tobias is the one I want to talk to about this, but he isn't here. He is with his father and he can't be here for me today. When did he become the first person I turn to, instead of Uriah and Zeke?

"That was my dad."

"Obviously. How did it go? And don't hold back. Remember, I know how much parents can suck."

I huff. "He didn't even ask how I was recovering or anything. It's the first time he's even called since I was in the hospital. He was asking about Thanksgiving. Offered to fly me out, but made it pretty clear that it would be an inconvenience. I'm only an obligation for him."

Marlene nods at me. There is clear empathy in her face, but no pity. "Well, I don't think I'm welcome at my family's Thanksgiving dinner, either. We'll just get Chinese and have a girls' night. Misery loves company."

I know her last words were sort of a joke, but an idea begins to form in my mind. I think of Uriah unconscious in his hospital bed, I imagine Zeke and Hana eating turkey and potatoes from a tray in the hospital cafeteria. I picture Marlene and me on the TV room couch eating out of Chinese take-out boxes in our pajamas.

No. That's not how any of us deserve to spend our Thanksgiving Day. I can't do anything about Uriah, but for the rest of us, it doesn't need to be this way. Holidays are about family, and I know who my real family is.

I shake my head and a smile begins to form on my lips. "Nah," I say. Marlene arches an eyebrow and I let my smile come through completely. "Marlene, I have an idea."

* * *

I meet Zeke at the park after lunch. I considered bringing Marlene along, especially since Zeke is sure to challenge me to a game of one-on-one basketball and with the cast on my arm, two-on-one (with Marlene and me being the team of two) would be more fair. But I haven't spoken to Zeke since that whole mess with Al on Thursday, so it's best that it's just the two of us for now.

To my surprise, Zeke doesn't arrive late; he is already on the court dribbling a basketball when I pull into the parking lot. I climb out of my truck and watch the net swish as the ball passes through. Zeke retrieves it and turns to wave at me. His smile isn't as big and genuine as usual, and I know that's my doing. I cross the grass and step onto the blacktop.

"Hey," Zeke greets me, absentmindedly dribbling the ball.

"Hey," I echo. He passes it to me, and I toss it at the hoop from where I stand. My aim is just slightly off, but it tips over the rim and through the hoop. We both watch it bounce a few times and roll into the grass. "Don't ever keep something like that from me again," I warn. There's no need to go into any more detail; he knows I'm talking about the rumors.

Zeke nods. "Got it."

"Good."

"And how about Four?"

I hold back the smile that wants break through at simply hearing Tobias's name. "We talked. We're all good."

"Excellent." Zeke pulls me into a hug and I sigh in contentment. It reminds me of my earlier revelation: I know who my real family is, and one of them is right here. "I wanted to ask you something," I say.

Zeke releases me. "Shoot," he says.

"What are you and your mom doing for Thanksgiving?"

Zeke snorts. "I hear the hospital cafeteria makes a mean turkey dinner," he says with a hint of sarcasm.

"That's what I thought."

Zeke goes to retrieve the basketball from the grass, and we lazily shoot hoops together as I explain my idea: Thanksgiving dinner at my house. Marlene and I will make the turkey and the main side dishes ― potatoes, stuffing, a salad, rolls ― and if they agree to join us, the Pedrads can bring dessert.

"So what do you think?" I ask. "Will your mom be cool with spending a few hours away from the hospital that day?" I know she doesn't spend all her time there, but on a holiday I worry she might want to stay by Uriah's side.

"For you? Definitely," Zeke grins. "Thanks for this, Tris. It will mean a lot to Mom."

I shrug. "You guys are family. And Marlene is too now, I guess." I don't hint at just how true that will be for the Pedrads by this time next year.

"Hey, I don't suppose you have asked Four about his holiday plans?" Zeke asks, trying to be nonchalant and failing miserably.

"No," I say. "Marlene and I just started planning this morning, you know." And Four had already left. Not that I can mention that he had been there, or that I had already thought of asking him. I only hope that he doesn't have to spend Thanksgiving with Marcus, though, and I don't relish the idea of inviting Tobias's mother. "Why do you ask?"

Zeke shrugs. "Well, he doesn't say much about it, but it seems like he doesn't like his dad much. And his mom works a lot. I don't know if she's off that day or not but you should invite him." Zeke wiggles his eyebrows; I get it, he's trying to set us up again. The joke will be on him when Uriah wakes up and we can tell everyone. That, or he'll take credit even though he had nothing to do with it.

I cover my thoughts with an eye roll. "Fine, Yente, I'll invite him if it means so much to you."

Zeke's confusion is obvious. "Who's Yente?"

I laugh at him. "A 'Yente' is a busybody old lady who is up in everyone's business trying to play matchmaker," I smirk. "It's from the musical _Fiddler on the Roof._ "

"Stop trying to make me all… cultured or whatever." Zeke protests. "Now come on and help me practice for basketball tryouts, since Four is stuck at his dad's this weekend."

"Oh, so I'm just second choice, am I?" Zeke's smile doesn't meet his eyes; I know I'm actually third choice, and I didn't mean to rub it in. Uriah's best sport is basketball, and since the previous star player graduated last year he should have been in the spotlight this year. Neither of us brings this up.

"Sorry, Pipsqueak," he laughs, passing me the ball.

"Pipsqueak!" I, well, squeak. "You're going down, Pedrad."

"Bring it, Prior."


	41. Chapter 41

**CHAPTER FORTY-ONE**

* * *

 ** _ **FOUR**_**

* * *

The cold November air smells like chimney smoke and impending snowfall, and I can see the puff of steam with each exhale, even in the middle of the afternoon. I shove my hands into my pockets as I wait for Tris to answer the door. It is strange standing here on her front porch; I haven't used the main entrance in a long time, having grown accustomed to letting myself in the side door ever since the accident, but it didn't seem right to just walk into Thanksgiving dinner as if I owned the place. I hear voices inside ― first Zeke, then Tris calling something back to him. I bounce on my toes, using movement to keep warm, until the door swings open to reveal my beautiful Tris. Her purple dress flatters her petite figure. With effort, I drag my eyes away from the hemline that falls only to mid-thigh, very aware of my heart having picked up speed, and smile at her when I meet her eyes again.

"Hi, Four," she says with a soft smile. I see Zeke peeking around the corner, spying on us. "Glad you could make it."

"I hope I didn't hold up dinner," I apologize. Thanks to my mother, I am nearly a half-hour late.

"Zeke wanted to start without you," Tris admits.

"Yeah, I'm starving to death over here," Zeke calls out. Tris rolls her eyes and walks away to the kitchen, smacking Zeke upside the back of the head as she passes him. I snicker at his surprised yelp and follow. Zeke falls into step beside me. "Everyone's in the dining room, come on," he says.

I am soon seated next to Marlene at Tris's dining room table. Tris and Zeke are across from me, and Zeke's mom, Hana, and her boyfriend, Harrison, are seated at either end. I have never met Harrison before, only know that he lives in Miami. He is a fit middle-aged man with blond hair and a firm handshake, and he seems friendly enough so far.

"Tris, Marlene, this all looks delicious," Harrison enthuses. And he's right, it does look good. The turkey is perfectly browned and my stomach is growling just smelling it from across the table. Then there is a colorful salad, a bowl of cranberry sauce, a basket of rolls, fluffy mashed potatoes, the obligatory stuffing, and a smooth, rich gravy.

Tris blushes. "Well, we'll just have to hope it tastes good, too."

"Of course it will," Hana says, almost scolding. "Your mother taught you well."

I can tell that Tris's smile is forced. "Yeah," she says softly. "Mom was a good cook."

Hana smiles back sadly. "Well, shall we give thanks?"

We go through the usual tradition of saying what we are thankful for. There is a recurring theme ― that Tris and Uriah survived the car accident, and that Uriah is showing signs of improvement. This week, he has continued to show the same signs of increased responsiveness that Tris told me about a week ago, a little more each day. Zeke adds on that he is thankful for making the varsity basketball team.

There is so much that I am thankful for this year: Tris, and having mostly escaped my father, top the list. Neither of which can I express in front of Zeke and his family. So when it comes to my turn I say, "I'm thankful that Zeke was the first person I met when I transferred to Dauntless High, and that I have made such great friends here." I make meaningful eye contact with Tris as everyone smiles and clinks glasses of sparkling cider.

Harrison carves the turkey and each dish is passed around the table. Everything tastes even better than it looks. Marlene accepts the praise gracefully while Tris mumbles a thank-you and blushes.

"Four," Harrison addresses me, "I've seen what you can do on the football field, very impressive; do you play basketball as well?"

"Yes sir," I say sitting up straighter and setting down my fork. "I'll be on the team with Zeke."

"And what position do you play?" he asks.

"Power forward," I answer. "But sometimes I sub in for the other positions when needed. They haven't told me where they're going to put me this year."

We had basketball tryouts on Monday, and Zeke and I both made varsity. Zeke told me that Uriah played Center, so I might be moved to that position since he won't be on the team this year. When Zeke told me how good Uriah was, I realized that I remember him from my time on Erudite's team; at one of our games against Dauntless last year, their star player was injured and Uriah was on the court for most of the game. And Zeke was right, Uriah is an excellent player.

"You kids must be tired," Hana says empathetically. "All these practices and football games, and now basketball, too."

"Just one more week of football left, though," Zeke chimes in. "Three more games, if all goes right."

"It will. You guys slaughtered them on Tuesday, and you will on Saturday, too," Marlene smiles, referring to our second and third games of football playoffs. If we win on Saturday, we will go on to the fourth round with a mid-week game. The championship game will take place next weekend.

"Tris, Marlene, are you two cheerleading this winter as well?" Hana asks.

I pick up my fork and continue eating, just enjoying Tris's happy and animated face as she and Marlene talk about the cheer squad. I am content to just sit and observe everyone. Throughout the dinner, Tris and Zeke tease each other like siblings and Hana scolds them for elbowing one another. Marlene excuses herself for a good chunk of the dinner and I know she's probably having a bout of morning sickness. Now that I know about her situation, I have noticed the odd times she excuses herself.

Everyone has finished eating by the time Marlene returns to the table. It is then that Hana asks about our families. I'm not surprised, I knew it would come up. It's probably not typical for kids our age not to be with our families for a holiday.

"My mom's working. She gets overtime since it's a holiday," I explain.

My mother took the shift at the last minute, but not without giving me a major guilt trip. It wasn't like she'd bought a turkey or anything when I brought up the invitation on Tuesday, I'm not sure she really planned to do anything that special. Tris had invited my mom as well, but my mom didn't want to go and made a series of passive-aggressive comments about me not needing her. I offered to stay home from Tris's, but Mom refused. Cue another round of her remarks.

"And I had dinner with my dad last night," I add.

Dinner with Marcus went pretty smoothly. The weekend was tense, but bearable. It seems that I am safe from his belt through the finals; he just took me around on errands again. I heard him bragging about my athletic achievements, especially the first playoff game the night before. The whole time, I could only think of Tris's question: what does Marcus get out of my football success? As well as my mother's warnings last month. I paid extra attention to every interaction and even wrote notes when I got home. I nearly threw them straight in the trash after; I have no idea what I think I'll accomplish, I don't even know what the hell I think I'm looking for, let alone what I would do if I found it. Whatever _it_ may be, or whether _it_ even exists.

"What do your parents do?" Harrison asks.

"My mother is a pharmacy tech at the hospital," I answer, "and my father is in upper management… something with finance... at Abnegation Marketing's Chicago branch."

Tris's eyes widen. "He is?" I nod. "My dad does the same job at their New York branch."

My eyebrows raise.

"What a kwinky-dink," Zeke says. It is an odd coincidence. "Didn't you move to Chicago like a year ago? I bet your dad took Andrew's job when he transferred to New York."

Zeke must be right, it only makes sense. Suddenly I am thankful for all the shit Tris has been through, because without it my dad wouldn't have moved us here, and I wouldn't have ever met Tris. Then I feel like shit for ever being thankful that Tris lost her family. It is so disgustingly selfish to even think that.

"Yeah, that is really weird," Tris says. Neither of us talks much about our fathers, but Tris looks as amazed as I am that it has never come up before.

When it's Marlene's turn to answer, I notice her tensing up beside me, gripping the seat with her hands. "Uh, well, I…" I know Zeke has been curious why Marlene had to move in with Tris, but Marlene hasn't been ready yet to tell the whole gang that she's pregnant. Sitting here with Uriah's mother as well has to be awkward. A rainbow of emotions cross Marlene's face, landing in a look of resolve. "I had a fight with my parents," she starts. She takes a breath to continue… and freezes at the sound of a phone ringing.

Hana offers a look of apology as she pulls out her phone. Marlene seems to be holding her breath while Hana checks the call ID.

Hana's face goes slack. "It's the hospital," she says, then quickly answers the phone.

We all sit in silence. "Breathe," I murmur to Marlene, starting to worry she might hold her breath to the point of passing out. Tris chews on her lip across the table from me and I wish I could go wrap my arms around her. Zeke looks unusually serious and sits closer to Tris than before, and Harrison has stood up from his seat and gone around the table, stopping behind Hana with his hands on her shoulders.

When Hana hangs up the phone, she's crying, but from this end the conversation didn't sound bad.

"Mom?" Zeke's voice is small, like a little boy.

"He's waking up," Hana gasps.

Zeke jumps up from the table and I see that his hand and Tris's are connected; they must have been holding hands under the table. I push back my jealousy and remind myself that they don't see one another in that way, that the gesture was only for comfort. Marlene is practically hyperventilating beside me and I pull her awkwardly into a hug, letting her hide her reaction, even though I don't really like people touching me, other than Tris. Over Marlene's shoulder I look to Tris, who looks back with a watery smile.

Finally, after more than a month, everything is going to be okay.

* * *

 _A/N; You've all been waiting for it, and the time has come. I'll try to get the next chapter up pretty soon. As always, I'd love to hear what you think, and thank you so much once again to everyone who has followed this story, added it to their favorites, and/or, especially, taken a moment to review! I'd love to hear what you think, and any predictions. :)_


	42. Chapter 42

**CHAPTER FORTY-TWO**

* * *

 ** _ **MARLENE**_**

* * *

"He's waking up," Hana gasps, and the world suddenly goes out of focus.

I don't know how to feel. Relieved, of course I am relieved. Uriah is waking up, it is what I have hoped for, what I have wanted, for the better part of two months. Two months of constant worry and heartache. But I am panicked.

Waking up means telling Uriah about the baby. It means facing his reaction, and I don't know what that will be. It means facing a very uncertain future.

Suddenly it seems so stupid that I didn't think of all this for such a long time. The very thing that made all this so much harder, I now realize, also let me put off facing reality and now these things aren't at some undetermined point in the future, but instead, are coming sooner than I am ready for, and I can't breathe.

Across the table I vaguely register Zeke on his feet, and the tears in Tris's eyes, and Harrison and Hana hugging nearby, but it is all almost swimming in front of my eyes and I. can't. breathe. And they are going to see, they are going to notice. They are going to notice that I am losing it and they are going to ask questions that I don't want to answer.

Four comes to my rescue. His hug is stiff and awkward and I can feel how uncomfortable it makes him, but it helps, because I can hide inside it so nobody will see that I am panicking. And then the Pedrads are practically running out the door with Zeke calling to Tris on his way out but I don't catch what he says.

* * *

Four drives us to the hospital. I sit in the back seat while Tris rides shotgun. They're talking quietly, Tris is nervous too and Four is reassuring her, so there is nothing to distract me now. All I can think about is that morning… the morning after.

. . .

 _7 weeks ago_

 _Oh god, too much light… pounding head… how much did I drink last night? I squeeze my eyes shut tight and bury my head in my pillow. My whole body goes stiff because that is not a pillow. It is too firm, and too warm, and feels definitely not like a pillow and more like a person._

 _My heart and my mind both start racing while I try to pull up any memory of last night. It comes in bits and pieces, just flashes of moments._

 _Dancing. Drinking. More dancing… with Uriah. His hand tucking my hair behind my ear… his breath on my cheek… his lips on my neck. His bed… his hands sliding up my shirt… and then…_

 _My eyes fly open despite the way the light stabs through, right into my scrambled brain and I see rich, light brown skin. My eyes scan up the toned chest that I have been using as a pillow, past his collarbone, and my breath catches when I see his face. Uriah's face, the only face I want to see right now, looking so relaxed and young and innocent. I feel utterly content in his arms and close my eyes again, letting his slow, deep breathing lull me back to sleep._

 _When I wake again my head still hurts and I instantly sense the change in Uriah. He is clearly awake, no longer relaxed. In fact I can feel the tension radiating off him and my heart drops._

 _He regrets it. He must. Because he didn't wake up and feel over the moon happy to see that it was me he was waking up to, or he wouldn't be so tense._

 _What do I do? I lie there debating for a minute, he hasn't noticed yet that I am awake. I could just wait for him to get up and leave the room, pretend to be asleep. Then I would get up and get dressed, go downstairs, and thank him for putting me to bed, pretend I don't even remember what happened. I would never have to face him, not really. I would never have to hear him say that it was just a mistake. And it would be that much harder, after I have had to hear him say it ― that he still loves Tris, that he was just lonely, that he was just drunk, whatever it is he has to say ― and just go back to normal and be friends after._

 _And for a minute I think that is exactly what I will do. Pretend. Avoid the whole situation, the whole conversation that is the alternative. So I lie there pretending to be asleep, but my mind keeps racing._

 _And I realize, I can't do that. I can't pretend, because this is what I really want ― to be here with him._

" _Mmm," I hum, making a few small movements as I pretend to be just waking up. Uriah takes a deep breath beneath me and slowly lets it out. I look up. I am met with his face, unreadable. My anxiety spikes. "Morning."_

" _Morning." His lips turn up in a closed-mouth smile. "Um...how are you feeling? I've got a bit of a hangover, how about you?"_

" _Yeah, actually," I admit._

 _He busies himself with getting us some Advil and a couple bottles of water, apparently he keeps those here in his bedroom. I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised by that; this is Uriah, after all, and he must need supplies like that fairly often, especially with how his mom isn't around much to stop him from going overboard._

 _But once we have tended to our headaches and are waiting for the pain relievers to kick in, the awkwardness sets in and I know I have to either leave or make him talk about what happened. If I was going to skip the conversation I should have gone with my first plan._

" _So... I was pretty drunk last night," I say, "but...um...we…"_

" _Yeah," he says._

" _And…" I swallow. I don't know how to bring this up. I have never considered myself a coward, I can be brave through a lot of things. But I don't know if I can find enough courage to ask what I need to know. I search deep down for it and find enough to blurt out two words. "Now what?"_

 _Uriah doesn't look at me. He takes a deep breath and blows it out through pursed lips, much like he did when he realized I was waking up a few minutes ago. He stands abruptly._

" _Here's the thing," he says, beginning to pace. "I like you." That leaden feeling that had begun to weigh me down when I first felt his tension begins to lighten. "A lot, actually. And last night was…" He turns on his heel and walks back the other direction, still only giving me cursory glances, his hands gesturing wildly as he rambles. "So, I don't want you to think... But here's the thing." He pivots again and resumes his pacing. I don't know how he is doing that if his hangover is anything like my own, because it's making me dizzy just watching him. "It's... I mean... I just…"_

" _Tris," I say softly, hope warring with defeat._

 _He stops but looks down at his bare feet. "Yeah," he says. "Tris."_

" _You aren't over her."_

" _No. Yes. I don't―"_

 _His shoulders slump and he finally comes to sit beside me. His hand finds mine. They fit together so perfectly._

" _I still care a lot about Tris." Finally, he makes eye contact. "But I really like you, Marlene. Maybe I couldn't admit it to myself before, but I've... been interested... for a while. But this is...really soon...and I just don't want to hurt her. Even if she was the one to break up with me, and hurt me first. I just need some time to figure things out."_

 _I swallow back my disappointment. "That's fair."_

 _For the first time this morning, he smiles at me. And even better, he leans in to press a soft kiss to my lips. "Thank you. You're pretty amazing, you know."_

" _And don't you forget it."_

. . .

He left me so hopeful for what we could become...but also so uncertain. Tris has never given me any details about what happened between her and Uriah the night of the accident. I know she was angry with him for showing up drunk, but I don't know what he said to her. Given the fact that she didn't guess that the baby was his, I can be sure he didn't mention me. While that has made the last month easier to bear in some ways, now it only adds to my uncertainty.

A wave of nausea crashes over me. "Four, pull the car over," I demand. I'm interrupting their conversation but I can't be bothered to care right now because Thanksgiving dinner will be making a reappearance very shortly.

Four looks at me in his mirror, mutters a curse and pulls onto a side street so quickly that his tires squeal. Then he's shouting at Tris, "Out! Out! Out!" as if the car is about to blow up and her life depends on her getting out of the car fast enough. Quick as I can, I fold the seat forward and climb out of the two-door car, thanking gods I'm not sure I believe in for the narrow strip of frosty grass between the street and sidewalk because it's the only thing cushioning my knees when I collapse in a retching heap.

* * *

We arrive to the hospital before any of our friends and settle into the ICU waiting room. As much as Tris and Four try to look 100% platonic in public, I can still see the way his hand lingers as he touches her arm, the way he comforts her with just the look in his eyes, what I can only describe as adoration on her face, and I have to look away. For one thing, those little moments between them have this air of intimacy; at least, if you know what you're looking for, they do. When he comes to the house I spend most of my time in my room to avoid them. Because when it comes down to it, I'm jealous.

I'm jealous that Tris had Uriah's affections for at least a year and a half (and, I strongly suspect, for years before that even if she didn't know it). I'm jealous that even after she broke up with him, she kept his devotion, no matter how close their friendship has been for the past eight years. I'm jealous that they have each other, of how obviously they adore one another, of the way they support each other. I have never needed support more than in this past month, and the person I want it from may or may not be willing to give it, but either way, it is something he hasn't been able to offer.

No matter what Uriah and I have had so far, no matter what he might feel for me, no matter what might be coming between me and Uriah, I'm still jealous.

And I hate that about myself. Because if there is anyone who doesn't deserve my resentment, it's Tris.

I stew on these thoughts, especially my own self-deprecation for them, while our friends filter in.

When Zeke comes to the waiting room to ask Tris to come back and see Uriah, it only adds to my jealousy. "He's asking for you," Zeke says. "Supposed to be family only right now but Mom and I convinced the nurses that you qualify."

It's like a punch in the gut. He asked for her. _Of course_ he asked for her. They've been best friends since we were kids. I try to convince myself that's all it is. I really try.

I am sitting there tuning everyone out, reminding myself of every nice thing Tris has done for me ― and the list is long ― when Four taps me on the shoulder. He gestures for me to follow him and leads me a short distance down the hall from the waiting room. We stop in front of floor-to-ceiling windows, and I watch the people milling about far below on the city streets.

"Are you okay?" he asks when the silence between us gets awkward.

I consider lying, but Four wouldn't believe me anyway. Plus, he is one of two people that know about my situation, and I'm not sure I could stand to talk to Tris about this after Uriah just chose her first yet again. I am disgusted at my own bitterness.

"He's awake," I say.

"I would have thought you would be happy about that."

"I am," I rush to insist. Four raises his eyebrows. "I am," I repeat. "But now that he's awake, I'll have to tell him. And I'm not even sure where we stand without adding...extra pressure."

"You're just going to worry about it until you ask him."

I hold back my tears and bite my lip to stop it wobbling. "What if he doesn't want the baby?" I whisper.

Four stares out the window. Instead of looking down at the people, he keeps his eyes toward the sky.

"I don't know," he finally says. "But everything will be okay. Things will work out. There are a lot worse guys you could be in this situation with."

Four isn't much of a talker, and his words are not as comforting as I might have hoped for. But they are honest, and I want to believe him. I lean my head against his arm in thanks and he stiffens but doesn't move away from me.

"Thank you," I say. I am still nervous, but I feel more in control of myself than I had before.

* * *

I touch up my makeup in the bathroom mirror. Not for the first time, I am glad I have switched to waterproof mascara. All these damn hormones make me feel like a whiny five-year-old with how easily I can be brought near tears lately.

"You've been holding out on me," Shauna accuses.

I meet her eyes in the mirror and raise my eyebrows, carefully keeping my face blank even while my heart pounds. Did they somehow overhear my conversation with Four? Does she know about the baby? Did she somehow find out about Uriah? If not, I have no idea what she could be talking about.

"We saw you getting chummy with Four out there," Christina says with a sly grin. "Spill."

"Um, uh...what?" I stutter.

"Stop pretending," Shauna demands. "Has this been going on since that night at the mall?"

"Oh, you mean the time you tried to set Four and me up?" I challenge.

Shauna tries her hardest to look innocent. "I don't know what you're talking about. I told you, Lynn had car trouble and needed us to pick her up."

"Uh huh." Yeah, right.

"I don't know why you're trying to hide it," Christina interrupts. "It's so obvious. He's always hanging around with you and Tris at her house, and sharing snacks with you and stuff at school." I cringe inside. Ever since he found out I was pregnant, Four has made a habit of bringing a snack or bottle of water for me, too, whenever he gets something from the vending machine. So does Tris, but of course they don't notice that. "And we saw you snuggled up to him in the hall. You two are so cute. I don't know why you're hiding it."

"We're not," I say, "because there is nothing going on with me and Four. We're just friends."

"Sure you are," Shauna says, her words punctuated with a roll of her eyes. "I don't know what's going on with you lately, Marlene. You never used to be so secretive."

"Yeah," Christina says. "You still haven't told us what that fight with your parents was about. Don't you trust us?"

I keep my eyes on the makeup I am putting away in my purse. I want to tell them, I really do. But I am so close to being able to tell Uriah. I just have to keep it to myself a little bit longer. "Of course, I trust you. I'm just not ready to talk about it."

Christina sighs dramatically as we exit the restroom. "I bet Four knows," she sings, and Shauna giggles.

When we return to the waiting room, Tris has returned. I make eye contact, hoping that she will communicate good news, that I can finally move on from this limbo. My talk with Four calmed me enough to just want to get this over with.

But I can see in Tris's eyes and the slight shake of her head, that I will have to wait a bit longer.


	43. Chapter 43

_**A/N: I'm so sorry I have been away so long! I struggled with this chapter, so I put it aside and took a break that turned out to be pretty much for the whole summer. It was just so easy to enjoy the good weather and let the computer gather dust. Anyway, I tried it in Tris's POV and wasn't really happy with it. Then I tried writing it from Uriah's POV and still was not satisifed. Finally I combined both versions and decided it was time to call it good and move on. So, I hope it doesn't disappoint.**_

* * *

 **CHAPTER FORTY-THREE**

* * *

 ** _ **URIAH**_**

* * *

At first when I woke up, everything was just... surreal. Like I was in some alternate reality or, I don't know. Everything just felt weird. I didn't know where I was, or what had happened. Hell, I hardly knew _who_ I was. I didn't recognize any of the faces hovering over me. There was a man in a white coat, with short white hair, bald on top, asking me to do things like squeeze their hand and follow a light. One of them pinched my hand really hard, so I moved it away from them.

There were several ladies, some of them around my mom's age, some only ten or so years older than me, all of them dressed in scrubs. My eyes came more into focus and I saw the popcorn ceiling and the white walls, the weird machines, and slowly the pieces came together: I was in a hospital. What happened, or why I was here, I had no idea, but at least I had some idea of where I was.

Then they started asking things like how old was I (sixteen ― my birthday was last month), who is the current president, and simple math sums. It was harder than it should have been to speak. Talking is never hard for me - I can always find something to say, and my teachers are forever complaining that I can't seem to keep my mouth shut. It took till 9th grade for me to mostly remember to raise my hand in class, and I never quite got the art of whispering, so I'm always getting in trouble in class for talking to the people around me. I remember recently in Government class, the teacher made me move seats to the front of the room, away from Tris. Teachers are always doing that kind of stuff. Tris always reminds me that if I would just learn to whisper, maybe we could still sit together. Anyway, it's usually easy for me to talk but right now it is like my tongue is having trouble doing what my brain tells me to. It's making me anxious.

Anxious. That's a word I learned after my dad died. I was 11. For a long time it was like I couldn't quite relax. I would have nightmares a lot - nightmares about the fire that killed Dad, he was saving someone and didn't make it out. Nightmares about police coming to tell me that Mom was gone now too. Nightmares where I was lost and couldn't find my family, not any of them. At night I would lay in bed and try to relax and go to sleep, but I kept finding that I was tensing up my muscles all over my body. Mom told me I was anxious. I didn't feel as safe with Dad gone.

It was one of those nights, soon after I turned 12, that I first snuck out. Sometimes I would climb into bed with my mom. But then Zeke teased me for that, so I stopped. I tried going to my brother's room, but I didn't want to wake him, I already seemed like enough of a baby for going to my mom in the past. So I snuck out at three in the morning and I walked the half-mile to Tris's house. When I got there, I just stood outside for a while, wondering if Tris would tease me like Zeke had. In the end I decided it was worth the risk - I was _anxious_ and I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to be alone.

Tris had showed me where the spare key was hidden when I walked home with her after school to work on a science project. (Well, maybe she didn't show me by choice - I annoyed her by following a step behind everywhere she went and finally she just gave up trying to hide it.) It was still in the same place, so I let myself in the side door off the kitchen. I tiptoed through her house and up to her room, making sure to avoid the third step from the bottom, because it always creaked.

Tris wasn't mad when I shook her awake, and she didn't call me a baby. When I told her how I was feeling she just pulled the blanket back for me to climb into bed with her, and she let me put my arm around her waist so that I could feel that she was there and I wasn't alone. She fell asleep before I did and it was the first time I learned how soothing the sound of someone breathing can be. We got in tons of trouble the next morning and Tris had to miss Marlene's birthday party at the roller skating rink because she was grounded.

I feel anxious again, right now. And Tris means even more to me now than she did when we were 12. She has always been there for me. So even when my mom and Zeke and Harrison arrive, all I want is to see Tris.

* * *

As soon as the doctors were out of my face, Mom, Zeke and Harrison took their place. I answer their questions and Mom hovers over me, but I keep one eye on the door the whole time. Tris never comes through it.

Finally, I ask for her. Zeke looks surprised but only for a second. "Oh, don't worry, she's fine," he says.

Good, that's good. Wait. "Was she with me when the accident happened?" I ask. "Where is she? Why isn't she here?"

Zeke's forehead creases. "Yeah, she was the one driving. A stop sign was missing at North & Fairfield, a truck hit the passenger door. Where you were sitting." He puts a little extra emphasis on the street names. I don't care what intersection we were at, I just want to know where Tris is.

"But is she coming?" I ask.

Zeke nods. "Yeah, 'course. Give her a little time to get here."

I relax... a little. I won't really feel better until I see my girl.

It feels like I wait forever, but finally Zeke checks his phone and sees a text from Tris. Mom and Harrison leave for a bit, I didn't pay attention to why, and Zeke leaves to get Tris from the waiting room. I shift in the bed trying to get into a more comfortable position, feels like I've been on my back forever. I probably have. It's hard to move much with this cast on my leg and my muscles so weak from lying here for so long. I'm going to have a lot of work to do to get ready for football season. Zeke says I've been out for almost two months. I wonder if my leg will even be healed in time, and how long I'll have to go to physical therapy. I have had to go to PT before for football injuries that were minor compared to what seems to be going on with me now. It seems like I can't even see quite right.

I manage to shift my position enough to feel a little relief, and Tris still isn't here. I try to see out the window but all that is visible there is the side of another building. The windows are tinted so I can't even see inside. I decide that the back of my own eyelids make for a better view while I wait.

* * *

 ** _ **TRIS**_**

* * *

I first walked down the hall to the hospital ICU room a month and a half ago. I was flanked by a nurse, and every step hurt. I was so anxious imagining what I would find in that room, I thought I might make myself sick.

Today, this is a familiar path. Zeke walks beside me instead of a stranger in scrubs. The only remaining evidence of my injuries is a cast that will be removed in two weeks. But I still feel almost as nervous and just as unsure about what I will find in that room.

"He seems okay," Zeke says as we walk. "Confused, but that's nothing new," he grins.

I smack his arm but can't help but grin back. "You're always such a supportive brother, Zeke."

Zeke sniffs dramatically. "Can't help it if I got all the good genes."

We walk into the main hub of the ICU. I smile at Zeke and that's when I see the worry in his eyes. Typical Zeke, trying to hide behind humor. I frown thinking of what Zeke said. "Wait so, what do you mean, 'confused'?"

"Well, ah…" Zeke tugs at his ear. "The thing is, Uriah―"

"Ah, good," a nurse called Sarah interrupts, coming out from the nurses' station at the center of the ICU. "I'm glad you're here, Tris. Uriah has been asking for you."

The curtains are open and as Sarah leads us to Uriah's room, and through the wall of windows I see him propped up in bed, but with his head resting against the pillow and his eyes closed. He is wearing a hospital gown, no longer bare-chested like he was in the beginning, no tubes in his mouth or nose to aid in respiration, and the monitors he is still attached to have the sound muted.

My heart pounds as we reach the threshold and I wish Tobias was here, with his hand in mine. I shove my hands into my pockets so they don't feel so empty. Uriah hears us entering the room and his eyes instantly open, and he smiles. I feel lighter, seeing that this visit really is different. His eyes are locked on me slowly approaching the chair next to the bed. Zeke stays back, leaning against the door frame like he can't decide if he should stay or go.

Uriah looks at my arm, which is still sporting a light blue cast. "I like the blue," he says. "I wonder what color my cast is. Got a marker? You can sign first."

"I already signed it," I say, glancing at his blanket-covered legs. "It's black. Zeke told them that was your favorite color. We all had to use a special silver marker to sign it."

Uriah catches my eye. "Mom said you were in the car, too."

I break our eye contact, letting my gaze drift around the room. "Yeah, I was driving."

"But you're okay," he says.

I shrug. "I was in hospital for a few days but I'm okay now."

"Guess you didn't enjoy their hospitality as much as I have," Uriah jokes. "So um… I know you're mad at me."

I bite my lip. "I was. I'm just glad you're going to be okay, Uri." I need to tell him about Four but this doesn't feel like the right time. He just woke up… anything serious, like where we stand, or his drunk driving, or the stop sign... we can talk about later.

"Was it bad?" he asks. "Whatever you were mad about?"

My jaw drops and my head snaps up to look at him. "Wait, you don't remember?"

Uriah shakes his head. "No." I guess it makes sense, he was pretty drunk, but it wasn't like we were on good terms before that so he should remember _something._ "I just woke up knowing you were mad at me. What did I do? Was it flirt-with-another-girl bad or was it just, you know, because I slept through prom?"

Flirting? Prom? There was definitely flirting at prom, and it was a disaster, but... "Wait… what? You didn't sleep through prom. And why would… what? Prom was in April. It's Thanksgiving."

Uriah now glares at Zeke. "I thought you said I'd been out for less than two months," he grinds out.

"You have," Zeke says, pushing off the doorframe and coming to stand at the end of Uriah's bed.

"Then how is it Thanksgiving?! Last thing I remember is that party after we won the finals. In basketball."

"But that was in March," I protest.

Zeke sighs. "I told you he was confused, Tris. Just― just chill, okay, Uri? The doctors said you might forget some stuff. It'll come back."

I swallow hard. I really hope that Zeke is right, and Uriah's memory will come back. Because a lot has changed in the past eight months and if Uriah can't remember any of that, this is becoming a situation that I have no idea how to handle.


	44. Chapter 44

**CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR**

* * *

 ** _ **FOUR**_**

* * *

Tris's bedroom feels empty without her in it. I have spent so much time in this room, but usually with all my attention dominated by Tris, because when she is near I have little regard for anything else. My eyes are drawn to the large blank spot on the wall that used to display the stop sign from the intersection at North & Fairfield.

That damn stop sign. It has caused so much chaos and heartache, and it seems it isn't done with us yet. Case in point… the reason I am waiting here, alone. Tris is currently downstairs trying to calm Marlene after her total meltdown halted our discussion of Tris's visit to Uriah in the ICU this afternoon.

I walk idly around the room, letting my eyes wander over all the little things that make this room so very _Tris._ I can't help smiling at last week's physics test discarded on her desk, bold red marker advertising the 91% she achieved. Her cheerleading uniform peeks out of her open laundry hamper, and a collection of boots and trainers, including several pairs of Chucks in varying colors, some more worn than others, litter the closet floor.

I stop at her dresser to examine the family photos framed there. In the first, I recognize Tris and Caleb, even though they are years younger in this photo; Caleb's hair is lighter than it was when I met him at the hospital, and he grins with front teeth are too big for his face in the way that is so common of older grade-schoolers, while Tris's missing teeth leave a gaping hole that her tongue peeks through.

To the far right is a photo of the whole family, with Tris and Caleb in their awkward pre-teen years. Everyone is smiling at the camera except for Mr Prior, who instead stares at his wife with obvious affection. It makes my stomach sink realizing just how much Tris lost when her mother died. There is nothing left of the happy family in this photo.

In the center is the most recent picture, larger than the others. It couldn't have been more than about two years ago, so it must not have been long before her mother died. Tris is in her cheerleading uniform with red-and-black paint on her face and a big bow in her ponytail, and her mother's arms are wrapped around her, both of them wearing huge, happy grins on their faces.

My family was never a happy one. I wonder what is worse: to have had fifteen years of the love and support Tris grew up with and then have it all ripped away from you, or to never know that security and affection in the first place, like me? Sure, unlike Marcus, my mother has never been cruel. But she has always been distant and reserved, and then there's the fact that she abandoned me to face Marcus alone for four years. Maybe that is Marcus' fault, or just the way my mother is, or perhaps I am just unlovable. I have always thought it was the latter, but the way Tris looks at me sometimes…

I shake my head to clear the thoughts away and shift my attention to take a closer look at the printed photos stuck into the edges of the frame of the mirror. All of the gang is represented here ― there are even a couple selfies of Tris and me that I remember her taking when we were doing that extra-credit math project. But most the most predominant faces are of the Pedrads. She has taken down the not-so-platonic pictures of herself with Uriah, but that still leaves a lot of memories on display. With it all spread out before me, it is impossible to ignore how much history the two share.

Until now, it hasn't really bothered me. But thinking of Tris's friendship with Uriah now, my stomach churns, and I don't think it's just because this is the first time I've really studied these photos. Maybe I should have seen this coming, but somehow, I didn't. I suppose I thought he would be distracted enough by his budding relationship with Marlene and being thrown head first into the whole baby situation, that it wouldn't affect me and Tris.

Nothing is going how we thought it would. The dramatic and uncomfortably emotional scene that played out when we got back from the hospital made that clear enough.

Uriah won't be distracted by his budding relationship with Marlene… because he doesn't remember it. Tris and Uriah's on-again-off-again relationship I witnessed when I moved here a few months ago is apparently not something Uriah will have any memory of; Marlene spent a good five minutes screeching and sobbing about how eight months ago Uriah had never given her a second look, and he and Tris were so sweet together it could give you cavities.

It was when Tris suggested that we hold off before springing anything big on Uriah that Marlene really lost it. I hadn't realized what a toll it was taking on her to keep the pregnancy a secret. Besides her obviously unsupportive parents, Tris and I are the only people who know anything about the situation. I know Tris has been supportive, but it must still be hard on Marlene keeping this from everyone and not knowing how Uriah will react. And today's events throw a new wrench in things, leaving her more off-balance than ever.

Besides, I can't blame her. I felt like throwing a bit of a tantrum myself. As much as I have tried to see the silver lining to this secrecy surrounding my relationship with Tris, I'm tired of it. She's mine and I want everyone to know it. And now not only is Uriah back and once again a real factor in her life… he's also still in love with her, and believes she is in love with him, too. The more I think about it, the more the knot tightens in my stomach. I don't like this situation at all and worse, I feel as though the decision was made without me.

Tris enters the room looking weary. I turn and lean back against her dresser to watch her throw herself limply on the bed. She scrubs her face with her hands before dropping them and rolling to look at me, one cheek pressed against her pillow.

"How did it go?" I ask, feet rooted to the floor.

"She's… I mean, she's upset. Of course she's upset. But she sees why she can't just come out and tell him. He's… it's too much."

I take a few cautious steps toward her. "I can see your point, but… what about us? I'm tired of hiding, Tris."

She sits up and bites her lip. "I hate it too. But I want to give him a chance to remember on his own. It would be easier for him… for everyone, really. Please, can we just give it a little more time?"

"But he might not ever remember, Tris," I tell her. "So, how long? A week? A month? Till Mar's baby comes out looking just like him? I can't keep doing this forever."

"I don't know!" she snaps.

I take a step back and pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off my frustration as I dig deep for calm and patience. "Tris," I warn.

"A month," she says arbitrarily, throwing up her hands. "Let's give it a month and ― and ― see where we are, okay?"

My eyes search hers, and I gather up the courage to ask the question I'm not sure I want the answer to. "But you have him back now. Are you sure you'll even want this in a month?"

"What do you mean? Just because he forgot everything that happened in the past eight months doesn't mean that I did too, Tobias."

That wasn't what I meant, but it does touch on something that bothers me. "You guys were happy back then," I remind her.

"Things changed."

"I know," I say, "but… it's like he's back to before all that, isn't it?"

"What are you trying to say, Tobias?" Her voice sounds tight. "You don't want… this? Us?"

"That's not what I said, Tris. But there are reasons you ended things and if they don't apply any more, well… I know what I want, I'm just not so sure that it's what you want, too."

And there it is. That's the crux of it. Our whole relationship, we have hidden, and that has been Tris's choice. I can't help wondering, at times, if there is more to that decision than Uriah's coma. Now he is awake and she wants to keep hiding… and meanwhile, she has the chance to get back something she had lost.

"I want _you._ "

Her words make my heart want to soar, but I hold back my elation. Because I'm still not certain.

I glance back at the photos on her dresser. "He's your family, Tris." The only family she has left, I add silently in my head. "Hell, it's Thanksgiving and who did you spend the holiday with? His mom and brother."

"You forgot a few people there," she reminds me. "I also spent the holiday with the girl that is having Uriah's baby… and with _you._ "

"True," I concede.

Tris hops off the bed and takes the last few steps across the room to meet me. She reaches up and gently presses a soft hand to my cheek. "Me and Uriah… it could never be the same as it was," she says softly, her eyes searching mine. "But… even if it could be…" she shakes her head, her eyes so tender and there's that look again that I think might be love, and I feel my Adam's apple bob as I swallow back the emotion she brings to the surface. "I wouldn't want it. Uriah and me, it was comfortable. But what I have with you…it's ― there's so much more, Tobias. I don't want anyone else. Only you."

Tris stands on her toes and I lower my head to meet her. My eyes slide closed as our lips touch, and my arm wraps automatically around her waist. I draw her closer until she is pressed tightly against me and pour all the passion I feel for her into our kisses, gradually walking her back until we reach the bed. She falls back onto it and pulls me with her. I catch myself with one arm, propping myself up with an elbow so I don't crush her, and slide my nose along her jaw before kissing just below her ear, then resting there a moment, breathing in her sweet scent.

I pull back and look into her beautiful, hooded grey-blue eyes. She has that look again, that look I keep seeing that I almost dare to believe might mean she feels everything for me that I feel for her. That look gives me the courage to gather up the words. Well, almost.

"I might be in love with you," I admit. Butterflies swarm my stomach, and I add, "I'm waiting until I'm sure to tell you, though."

I'm afraid my words will scare her off, but the corners of her lips turn up in a smile. "That's sensible of you," she teases. "We should find you some paper so you can make a list or a chart or something."

I drop my face to the crook of her neck, chuckling through my nose before placing a kiss there. "Maybe I'm already sure," I say, "and I just don't want to frighten you."

I feel her answering laugh. "Then you should know better."

"Fine. Then I love you."

She pulls my lips back to hers and kisses me. Pretty soon I don't care that she hasn't said it back ― her earlier assurances are enough for now and with the things she is doing with her tongue, and the way her hands feel wandering my skin, I can just assume that she's showing me what she is not yet ready to put into words. And it's enough.

We break apart to remove each other's shirts and catch our breath, though neither of us can stand to let our lips leave the other for long. "Will you stay tonight?" Tris says against my shoulder between kisses to the damp skin there while her hand frees the button on my jeans.

I can't remember how late Mom is working but at the moment I really don't care. "Yeah," I answer. "I'll stay."

* * *

 _ **Thank you to everyone who has followed, added this story to their favorites, and especially those who have taken a moment to leave me a review! A bit slow-going getting back into this, sorry. Had a hard time deciding how to approach this chapter, but eventually I figured it out, and I hope you liked it!**_


	45. Chapter 45

**CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE**

* * *

 ** _ **FOUR**_**

* * *

The next morning, I wake before my phone alarm sounds. In the few times I have stayed the night with Tris, I quickly determined that cuddling with her was the very best way to wake up. But you know what's even better? Waking up as I am now: spooning the girl I love, my bare skin flush against hers. It's not quite the best feeling in the world ― not as amazing as what I experienced with her last night ― but it's the happiest feeling I have ever awakened to.

I'm a guy, of course I have always wanted to know what it feels like to have sex, and it was incredible, better than I could have dreamed of, pleasure beyond my imagination. But right now I am experiencing a different kind of bliss: feeling closer to Tris than I ever have to another person. I have always been especially contented when she is in my arms, but this is on a whole new level.

I breathe in her sweet scent and softly kiss her neck awhile my thumb draws gentle circles on her abdomen. "Mmm," she moans sleepily. My breath hitches as she presses back against my morning wood, not a stitch of clothing between us. "Good morning." Her voice is low and husky with sleep, seductive enough to make me physically twitch.

"It certainly is," I growl back, holding her tighter, my ministrations against her neck and collarbone becoming more fervent, sucking at the delicate flesh. I groan at the feeling of her skin sliding against mine as she rolls over to face me, breaking the hold my lips have on her collarbone. She catches them with her own and we kiss, tongues tangling and hands roaming, until we are interrupted all too soon by the grating noise of my alarm.

I want nothing more than to stay right here in bed with her. Every fiber of my being protests as I roll away from her to turn off the alarm, but I have places to be and I think I could be persuaded all too easily to forget responsibility and stay in bed for a repeat of last night. So I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit up, leaning down to grab my boxer briefs from the floor and quickly slide them up my legs.

"When's your practice?" Tris asks me. I look over my shoulder and see her sitting up. The sheet pooled around her waist and her hair falling around her in waves obscure my view of my favorite parts of her body.

"In an hour." The bed shifts as she moves, then I feel her breasts pressed against my back, her chin on my shoulder, her arms around my waist.

Her breath tickles my ear. "I'm gonna go shower." She presses a kiss to my neck, then scoots around me to climb off the bed. I watch, mesmerized, slowly trailing my eyes up her body and holding myself back from grabbing her and pulling her into my lap. "You coming?" she throws over her shoulder.

I jump to my feet. "I think I will be in a minute," I quip as I chase after her.

* * *

I run my hands down my face, leaving them slick with sweat, and drain the rest of my water bottle. Peter slams his shoulder against mine, hard, as he passes, smirking at me. "Keep playing like that tomorrow, Eaton," he snickers. "Then you can be the one on the bench while I get all the scouts' attention."

I try to glare at him as he passes, even though I know he's right. I just can't seem to keep my mind on football, even now. My thoughts are stuck on last night and this morning. All I want is to be back at Tris's. In her bed. With her… naked. Well, both of us naked.

"Eaton!" Coach Amar bellows. My head snaps up and I make eye contact, and he gestures me toward him. "I'd like a word."

I take my time ambling over to Coach, trying to give my teammates a moment to make their way to the locker room, because I am certain this won't be a pleasant conversation. To put it bluntly… practice today was a total shitshow. Not only did I arrive late ― a fact I can't even honestly be sorry for, as it was thanks to hands down the best shower of my life ― but once I made it onto the field, I was a mess. Once, the ball actually hit me in the head because I couldn't keep my mind on the game to save my life and didn't realize Zeke had passed the ball to me. The third game in the play-off series is tomorrow. There isn't time for any of us to have our heads in the clouds, let alone the star quarterback.

Amar gives me a weary, frustrated look. "For God's sake. Wipe that smile off your face, Eaton."

I straighten out my expression. I am not typically a smiley person; the corners of my lips naturally turn down. Not so today. Now that I am conscious of it, I realize that the small muscles at the corners of my lips have actually begun to ache from overuse. "Sorry, sir."

Amar nods. "Care to explain what the hell that was out there today, Eaton? Because I've _never_ seen you play that badly before. This isn't peewee football. These are the playoffs, the team is counting on you. Or am I going to have to rely on Peter?"

"No sir." I scratch the back of my neck nervously. "I don't know what happened today. I'm off my game but I'll figure it out, I'll get back on track before tomorrow."

Amar gives me this look like I'm stupid and rolls his eyes before launching into a rant. For the next five minutes, he lectures me on the importance of the state playoffs and the opportunities that this series of games could open for my teammates and me if we play at our best while I try not to be too distracted by Zeke standing up in the bleachers behind Amar, making faces at me while he waits.

My one consolation when Amar's speech segues into basically a sex talk is that Zeke has gotten tired of waiting and isn't there to witness it. I'm a little lost while he rants about "chi" or something but I pretend to follow, not wanting to drag this out even longer, especially as I feel the blood rushing to my face and the heat creeping up my neck. I'm sure I am bright red with embarrassment by the time Amar seriously and a bit menacingly ends with an order: "Keep it in your pants until the playoffs are done." As I watch him walk away my mind is still racing, wondering how my coach figured me out so easily.

The thing is...he's right. And that completely sucks. Because half the reason I couldn't follow most of what he said, was because I was hardly paying attention. All I could think about was Tris, and Tris's bed, and Tris. Naked.

I have a feeling that staying hands off for the next week will be much easier said than done. I'm afraid all semblance of self-control will go right out the window as soon as I am alone with Tris.

* * *

 ** _ **ZEKE**_**

* * *

The few other guys I like to talk to have already left and I feel Al's eyes burning a hole in my back, but I take my time because I have questions I want to ask Four, who is taking forever to get back to the locker room. When I turn away from my locker, Al tries to pretend he wasn't staring at me, but then he keeps glancing over. I haven't spoken to the asshole in weeks; he stopped trying to hang out with us after we all found out about the lies he had been telling about Tris. Tris is like a sister to me and you don't let a guy get away with doing that kind of shit to your sister. Wish I had gotten to beat him up, but I missed my chance to deal with it before Tris could say otherwise. Not that I plan on letting it go.

"Can I help you?" I say with a flat voice.

Not used to seeing me so emotionless, Al gulps. "I heard your brother woke up."

"Yeah," I clip. I raise my eyebrows at him to spit out whatever he wants to say while I take in his appearance. He looks pale, with dark circles under his eyes.

"That's good," he sighs. "I just wanted to know if it was true."

"Well, it is," I say. "Guess you can clear your conscience now you know he's not gonna die, right?" Al ducks his head and I turn back to my locker. Uriah's gonna be okay, yeah, but is he really? His head's all messed up, the doctors don't know if he will ever remember all the months that accident knocked out of his head. I need to get over to the hospital and see him and I can't wait, but I still feel that nagging worry and dread, because I don't know what to tell him about the months he missed. Come on, hurry up, Four, and distract me.

Finally my prayers are answered: Four strolls in wearing the shit-eating grin he's had on his face all morning. I think I have seen him smile more this morning than in the entire three months I have known him. It looks weird on him. He ambles over to his locker and starts putting the combination into his lock seemingly without noticing anything going on around him.

"Eaton," I call. I slide down the bench and lean back on my hands to stare him down. His glazed-over eyes focus on me. "There's no way that lecture from Coach made you all happy like that." His smile mostly drops, which puts me more at ease. It was starting to feel like the Twilight Zone in here. "Much better, that was creepy. So, who was it? Anyone I know? I need details, man."

I rub my hands together feeling much happier now that I finally get to ask Four what he got up to last night. I haven't so much as kissed a girl in weeks. I want to ask out Shauna, and I don't think I was this nervous about it even back in sixth grade when I asked out my first ever girlfriend, Lily Parsons. It only lasted a week, but at the time, I was terrified that she would reject me and the whole class would laugh. It took me weeks to work up enough courage. I chickened out and asked her for a pencil instead so many times, she probably had to buy extra school supplies before Christmas that year.

Four's mouth opens and closes twice before he says, "What are you talking about, Zeke?"

Does he think I'm stupid? He has hardly tried to hide it. "The girl you were with last night. Congratulations, by the way. It's about time you got your dick wet." This time his mouth stays clamped shut, and I can see a muscle twitching in his jaw. I raise my eyebrows. "Come on, man. It's been weeks for me, I need to live vicariously through you. Hey, maybe now you'll work up the nerve to ask Tris out."

Four starts rummaging through his gym bag. "First of all," Four says in a low voice that makes me scoot back a little on the bench to put more distance between him and me, "is there a sign on my back announcing that I had sex? What the hell?"

"Sorry, but it's written all over your face," I laugh. "I told you that smile was weird."

Four pretends I didn't say anything. "Secondly, do you honestly think I would sleep with some random girl, then turn around and ask someone else out the next day?" He stares at me for a few seconds and shakes his head. "Sorry, must have forgotten who I was talking to." In the same breath, he tosses his gym bag down, runs a hand through his hair, and asks, "Can I borrow your shampoo? And deodorant ― you have that spray-on kind don't you?"

I grin like the Cheshire Cat. I bet I know where he left his stuff. "Only if you give me details."

"No," Four deadpans.

"Then no shampoo or deodorant." He doesn't look like he's about to budge, and I am determined to get _something_ out of him, so I'll have to compromise. "Come on, one little detail and you can borrow my shit."

Four pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Fine, one detail. Um…she invited me to shower with her this morning. Hence my need to borrow your shampoo, now hand it over."

"Aw, come on!" I complain, but I open my bag anyway. "Give me more than that. What's her name?"

"Not telling you."

"Where'd you meet her?"

"I'm not giving you any hints who she is, Zeke."

"Why you gotta keep this so secret?" He shrugs, taking the shampoo bottle from my hand. "Do I know her?" Four stays silent and gives me that stubborn-ass _Four_ look, and I'm not happy about it when I put up my hands like I'm surrendering to a cop or something. "Fine, fine, I know when to give in." I ignore Four's scoff. "I'm heading to the hospital to see Uriah. Don't leave my shit at your lady's house, I want it back at the game tomorrow. Actually, maybe you better not go see this mystery-girl again tonight, you seemed a little distracted out there today," I laugh. Four flips me the bird so after I sling my gym bag over my shoulder, I blow him a kiss before walking away.

His phone rings as I reach the door to the locker room, which had entirely cleared out while we were talking. He waits a while before answering and but I hear the tone stop and Four's voice as he answers. I'm already out in the hall, but what if this is the chick he was with last night? Maybe I can figure out who he was with. If I stay near the door but out here in the hall, he won't be able to see me but I can still hear him.

"Hey, Mom," he says. I sigh and push off the wall I have been leaning against. A call from his mom, that's boring. Definitely not worth waiting around for. "Yeah, sorry. I thought you were going to be at work all night." I take two steps down the hall but stop again when I hear, "I stayed at Zeke's."

Well, that's interesting, Four using me as a cover. And he didn't even warn or ask me. Quiet and stealthy-like, I move right next to the door again.

"Please don't call her that, Mom." That's gotta be his girl he's talking about. "It was your choice to go to work yesterday, Mom, so don't get mad at me about it. You could have come with us to dinner at Tris's." … "Yeah, I'll be home soon … No, I don't plan on going anywhere tonight. … Well, it's not my fault he had some business thing, you know I'd rather be with you or my friends anyway. Tell him I'll see him Wednesday … Fine. I'll be home in half an hour, okay? Okay, bye."

I hear his footsteps in the empty locker room, heading to the showers, and I give up and head down the hall. That conversation (what I could hear from Four, anyway) didn't tell me much about the mystery girl who finally got Four to give it up, unfortunately. But it sounds like whoever she is, Four's mom knows about her. Why would he tell his mom but not his best friend?

* * *

I hate the hospital, I shouldn't have to be so familiar with this place. I'm starving and I know when I go into the cafe it will be like Cheers, except I don't wanna go where everybody knows my name (and the serving staff all does.) Mom probably told them last night that Uriah woke up and they'll all want to talk about it. Which is cool I guess, or it would be if he could get his head on straight, but I'm still worried and I don't want to talk about it with the kitchen staff.

But Tris is a different story, and I catch sight of her a few yards ahead of me when stride through the sliding glass doors at the hospital entrance.

"Tris!" She spins when she hears me shout her name, and smiles when she sees me. I cross to meet her and pull her into a hug.

"Coming up with me?" she asks.

"In a bit. I just finished practice and I'm starving."

Tris nods and worries her lip between her teeth. "How was he after I left last night?"

I slowly walk with her toward the elevator, my arm slung over her narrow shoulders, and blow out a slow breath. We stop a few yards from the row of elevators. "I mean, he was happy you came to see him. Noticed you were acting a little weird though and was worried about it. Tris, I don't know what we're gonna do about his memory."

Tris steps back from me and stuffs her hat into her backpack, still chewing on her lip. "I can't just let him go on thinking we're together, Zeke," she says, finger combing her hair. "I can't pretend like that. I don't want to get back together with him. And pretending I do won't do him any good either."

I nod slowly, feeling a little deflated. I know I was encouraging Four to ask her out less than an hour ago, and I really do think they'd be great together but it isn't like they're doing anything about it. And I know for certain that my brother, as he is right now, living eight months in the past, is in love with Tris. They were pretty great together, too, before that mess with Lauren on prom night. But more than as a girlfriend, Tris has been Uriah's best friend for half our lives and if anyone can help him through this, it's her. She plays with the zipper on her black fleece jacket.

"You know he needs you right now, Tris. Go easy on him." My eyes widen as I notice something on her collarbone. "And for the love of Dauntless cake, don't let him see that bruise." I tap the spot to point it out.

Tris blushes bright red and zips her fleece back up to the top. "Yeah, uh, thanks. I better go, Zeke. I'll ― I'll see you up there."

I grin and shake my head as she hurries off. On my way to the cafe, I text Four to complain about whatever party they found last night without telling me.

* * *

 _Only two weeks this time... not so bad! I planned to have more happen in this chapter but I decided instead to break it up so I could update a little sooner. It was already longer than most of my chapters anyway. :) I tried to keep this T-rated in content even though some of the subject matter leans more toward adult, but I didn't go into detail so... hope that was alright?_


	46. Chapter 46

**CHAPTER FORTY-SIX**

* * *

 ** _ **TRIS**_**

* * *

Uriah is asleep when I enter his room. Early on, I had made it a habit to bring my schoolwork with me on my visits to Uriah. Obviously he wasn't going to respond to me and I always ran out of things to say long before I was ready to go. I just felt like I should be here with him. So a few times a week I would do my homework at his bedside, sometimes reading aloud or verbalizing my thought process on a math problem, just so he could hear my voice. It feels a little strange to read my English Lit book silently in this room.

Not that I'm getting much reading done. I like the book well enough, but I can't keep my mind focused on the text. I told Marlene and Tobias that we needed to wait a while to tell Uriah everything, and I meant it… but I am not happy about it. I have never hidden a relationship from my friends before, and certainly not from Uriah and Zeke. Even when I was dating Peter. Uri and Zeke didn't hide their dislike for him, but I was still open enough about the relationship. At the time I had not known how Uriah felt for me.

But this time, I do know. All I have to do is close my eyes, and I can so easily transport myself back to the time that Uriah is still living in. I can see the way he looked at me, feel the way he kissed me, hear the way he would whisper my name like a prayer when we made love. Everything was so perfect, I was so certain that Uriah and I would last forever.

But things changed. Lauren happened, and rumors and lies, and spiked punch at the prom, and my shattered heart when I found my so-called friend kissing my boyfriend, and him kissing her back. And I don't want to relive any of that. After that we argued more often, and Uriah drank more, and it was just never the same between us.

Breaking up with him the first time was hard enough. Now I have to do it all over again, to a version of him that really doesn't deserve it. I am out of time and will all too soon need to have a conversation that will leave my best friend crushed. I am all too familiar with the feeling and no matter how Uriah has hurt me in the past, I dread inflicting the same pain upon him. I loved him, still love him, will always love him. But not in the way he thinks I do, not anymore.

I don't care for Uriah in the same way I care for Tobias.

Last night, Tobias told me he loved me. I almost said it back, but I just couldn't. I showed him the best I could, in a way I have been longing for, for a while now. I feel _so much_ for him but to say those words out loud… I was scared. But somehow, he knew not to push me.

When Uriah opens his eyes and smiles as soon as he sees me sitting there, it makes my stomach flip. And not in a good way.

"Mmm," Uriah hums and smiles as he wakes up. "Tris."

"Mmm hmm," I answer, setting my book on the side table. "How are you doing?"

"Better now that I'm waking up to your beautiful face."

I roll my eyes ― a response I know he expects as it's typical for a cheesy line like that. But really it just makes my stomach do another roll, because we are so not on the same page right now.

"I can't stay too long today," I warn him. "I've got a cheerleading practice. You know, because the playoff game tomorrow. I got my grades up while you were, uh, sleeping… they let me back on the squad." The confusion on Uriah's face reminds me that he doesn't remember my trouble with my grades, or any of it, and I silently curse myself. "You know what? Never mind. It's not important. I just, yeah, I have that practice in a couple hours."

"Tris―"

"Uriah," I cut him off. "Just leave it. Doesn't matter anymore."

"Of course it matters. Tris, how am I going to catch up on everything I missed… or forgot… if no one will fill me in?"

I sigh. "I guess. But really Uriah, it isn't important. I fell behind, Dad got mad, Ms Graham suspended me from the squad. Worked hard, brought my grades up, and things are back to normal. See? There. You're caught up."

"Ookay…" Uriah says, looking no less confused than he did a moment ago. "I'm getting the sense that something is wrong so… come sit with me and tell me what I missed."

To my horror, he starts trying to maneuver himself to one side of the bed. "Uh. Uriah? I don't ― I don't think that's a good―"

"I won't break, Tris. There's plenty of room for two if I can just―"

"No, Uriah, I don't ― it's not ― ugh!" I feel heat in my cheeks and I'm too hot. I am about to take off my fleece jacket but then I remember the hickey that Tobias left on my collarbone and Zeke's warning not to let Uriah see it, and I leave it on and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans instead. "Just, just stop, and you stay there and I will stay here, and let me explain, okay?"

Uriah shakes his head. "Babe, you're making me nervous. What's wrong?"

I press my hands onto the rough fabric of the chair cover under my legs and keep my eyes focused on the pattern of the wallpaper above Uriah's head. I can't stand to make eye contact with him, not right now. "It's… the thing is…" Maybe it's best to just rip off the band-aid. "We broke up months ago, Uriah. A few weeks before the accident."

In my peripheral vision, because I still can't look at him, I see Uriah shaking his head. "No. No. Why would we― I don't understand, Tris. I love you and you love me. That's ― it's just not ― what?"

The heat is behind my eyes now and I press the heels of my palms into them. "Things changed."

"I love you and you love me," he says again. "That can't have changed. Whatever happened, we can work it out, Tris. Tell me what happened. Tell me we can fix it!"

"Lots of things happened, Uri."

"That's not good enough. Tell me! What went wrong? Did you meet someone else? Cause there's no way I would have and we're so good together. I don't understand."

I feel a completely unfounded stab of guilt when he asks if I met someone else. I know I did have feelings for Tobias before Uriah and I broke up, I can admit that to myself now. But I certainly didn't act on them, and Uriah moved on a whole lot faster than I did. That's even without bringing The Lauren Incident into consideration. Remembering her again, and what happened just a couple of months after Uriah's last memory of normal life, I let out a short, humorless laugh.

The next fifteen minutes are a mess of disjointed recountings of incidents and disgreements and half-formed arguments from Uriah. By the time that Zeke strolls into the hospital room, Uriah's eyes are watery and red and I can hardly see with the tears blurring my eyes. I feel like I am going to sick up my toenails if I stay here and hash this out with Uriah for one more minute, so I grab my backpack, mutter a hasty goodbye to Zeke and book it to the elevators. Zeke will have to pick up the pieces and fill in the blanks, because I am at my limit.

* * *

 ** _ **ZEKE**_**

* * *

I know as soon as I walk into Uriah's hospital room that Tris has broken the bad news. All I catch is the mascara smudged around her eyes as she rushes past me, but it's enough to know that she is upset. One look at my brother's face tells me all I need to know about how he took the break-up. At least when Tris broke up with Uriah a few months ago, he understood why. This time he doesn't even remember what he did wrong.

Suddenly I feel so tired, all the way through to my bones. I pull the chair closer to Uriah's bedside and drop into it like a lead weight. Uriah seems to just stare straight ahead at the wall, not making eye contact with me. I can read my twin brother well enough to know how hard he is trying to keep his emotions under control… and how much he'd probably like a stiff glass of whiskey right now, though maybe (hopefully) that habit has been broken by all this memory loss. I've drunk away my sorrows a few times, too, but Uriah's habit had started to worry me.

I want to make a joke and lighten up the somber mood in here. It takes a lot of willpower to hold it back and let Uriah compose himself and get his head on straight. I pick up the book that's sitting on the bedside table ― _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn._ We're reading that in English class right now, Tris must have left it here. I'll have to remember to grab it before I leave. I can bring it by Tris's place later, check on her and make sure she's alright.

"I just don't get it." It has been quiet for so long that Uriah's voice makes me jump. "She won't even try to work things out."

Six months of fights and Uriah brooding flashes through my mind. I make eye contact with him and shake my head. "She _has_ tried Uriah. Believe me, she's tried."

"But it hasn't happened for me. I'm still the same person I was before all that."

"It happened for Tris."

"You're supposed to be on my side," Uriah whines. "You're my brother!"

"Look, Uri," I sigh. "I have always taken your side. _Always._ Even when you were wrong. Did she tell you about Lauren?" He nods, looking at that spot on the wall again, but I see the doubt on his face. As far as he remembers, Lauren is our friend, Tris's friend. "It happened Uri, and I stood by you. And Tris forgave you for that. But you two, you were no good for each other after that. I still took your side when you finally broke up and Four said we didn't have to pick sides but I said it didn't work like that."

"Who's Four? It says that on my cast. Four. What kind of name is Four?"

"Transferred a few months ago. He's the new quarterback and he's our friend. That's not important right now. What matters is that Four was right. I realized that after the accident. I hadn't been there for Tris and it was wrong. She's family too, she's been one of our best friends for, well, forever basically. So, this time, I'm not taking anyone's side."

Uriah's head flops back on his pillow and he stares at the ceiling for a minute. Yesterday turned his world upside down. He woke up at the hospital not remembering the last 8 months and was told he will need extensive physical therapy to be able to walk, let alone get back on the basketball court and football field. Yesterday sucked for Uri, but I am getting the feeling that today is sucking even more.

"Has she moved on?" he asks.

I'm not sure how to answer. I haven't seen her with anyone but she obviously fooled around with someone last night, if that love bite I spied is anything to go by. But if it was serious I'm sure she would have told me about him, since she has been a little annoyed that I keep trying to push her toward Four and that would have got me off her back.

"She hasn't told me about anyone," I finally answer.

"Have you seen her with anyone?"

"No."

Uriah nods, looking up at the ceiling again like he thinks that if he isn't looking right at me I won't see the red around his eyes. But I cut him a break, and start telling him about football practice to change the subject.

* * *

The side door to Tris's house is open when I arrive to deliver the English book she left in Uri's hospital room. I haven't been over to Tris's house much lately, other than Thanksgiving; between the extra football practice gearing up for the playoffs, basketball tryouts and hospital visits, I haven't had a lot of free time. Besides, when I used to come over here more often, I was almost always tagging along with Uriah.

I walk into the kitchen to find Marlene putting away dishes. I had almost forgotten that she was living here now. She told us all that she had a big fight with her parents, but I still don't know what it was about. I'm not that close with Marlene so I didn't really expect that she would tell me, anyway. I have always hung out more with the guys, Tris, and Shauna. I can just make out music coming from upstairs.

"Hey, Mar," I say. She smiles and greets me back. I hold up Tris's copy of _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn._ "Tris left this at the hospital. Is she here?"

"Yeah, in her room," Marlene tells me, opening the fridge. She pauses and looks at me. "You hungry?"

I debate in my head for a minute. I rarely turn down food, but I did just run through a drive-thru and ate in the car on my way here. "Maybe after I see Tris. Are there Thanksgiving leftovers?"

"Mmm-hmm, lots," Marlene confirms. "Help yourself whenever. I'm sure you know your way around in here."

"Thanks, Mar." I give her a mock salute and jog up the stairs to Tris's bedroom.

The music gets louder as I get closer to Tris's room and I both smile and roll my eyes when I hear that she's listening to The Cure. Tris isn't the kind of girl that follows whatever trend is popular, and she has always had her own unique taste in music, just like everything else. The door is ajar, so I knock hard enough to make it swing open. She is sitting at her desk with a textbook open and a pencil in her hand but I must have startled her with my loud knock because she turns her head so fast that the spinny desk chair turns too and I have to wonder if that is good for her neck when she injured it in the accident just a couple months ago.

Tris's eyes light up when she sees me but then dim, probably because she's remembering her conversation with Uriah a few hours ago. "Is he alright?" she asks, getting up to turn the music down.

I shrug. My brother is not alright but I don't want to tell her that. It would only make her feel bad. "He'll be fine," I say. "Eventually, once he gets a grip on everything that has changed."

Tris nods and sits down on her bed. "I wasn't expecting you," she admits. "I thought it must have gone really badly if you came to talk to me about it in person."

I shake my head. "Nah, I came to bring you this." I hold up her book.

"Oh!" She stands again and takes it from me. "Thanks. Now I don't have to borrow Marlene's copy. I wasn't really feeling ready to go back there and get it."

Tris sets the book on her bedside table. That's when I notice something odd. I shuffle a few steps over, doing my best to be real casual, my eyes flicking to the red tube on the table. I see Tris raising an eyebrow at me so I pick up the Old Spice deodorant stick and raise an eyebrow right back at her. "Uh, Tris? Why do you have men's deodorant in your room?"

I could have sworn her eyes went real wide at first, but then I blink and her face is as neutral as ever, though I detect a little more pink in her cheeks. She squares her jaw. "It works better than girls deodorant."

My eyebrows must be in my hairline now. "You're telling me you use men's deodorant, Beatrice?"

She bites her cheek. I can't tell if it's because she's lying, or because she is embarrassed. "Only for cheerleading. And if you tell anyone, I will tell _everyone_ about that time we were watching that horror movie… the one with the clown… and you got so scared you peed yourself. All over my couch."

"You wouldn't," I say in a low voice, narrowing my eyes at her in an attempt at intimidation. That happened years ago and was one of the most embarrassing moments of my entire life, or it would have been had Tris not helped me cover it up.

Tris smirks and crosses her arms over her chest. "Try me."

"Fine," I concede before sticking my tongue out at the smug look on her face. Sometimes it sucks that she knows me so well. "You wanna watch a movie or something?"

Tris contemplates the offer. "I have more studying to do, but we could watch something shorter first?"

"Pick something good," I warn her. "I'll be right back, I gotta take a leak."

"Charming," she grumbles, reaching for the remote.

* * *

 ** _ **TRIS**_**

* * *

I turn on the TV and go into my Hulu app. After browsing my lists for a minute I select a show and sit back to wait for Zeke to come back. I hated lying to Zeke, even if it was about something as stupid as a stick of deodorant. I hated threatening him even more. But I am not ready to tell anyone about me and Tobias, not while it's all still so complicated with Uriah. I definitely don't think my relationship with Four would be welcome news tonight, after Zeke just dealt with Uriah's reaction to the break up.

The opening credits to _Bob's Burgers_ are just starting when Zeke walks into the room. I pale when I see what is in his hands.

"So, are you going to tell me you use men's shampoo and wear boxer-briefs, too?" he accuses.

"Zeke, um… I…" I stammer, frantically searching my mind for any believable excuse. He knows Caleb didn't show up for Thanksgiving, instead spending it the holiday in Springfield with his new girlfriend, so using my brother as a scapegoat is not an option.

"You know," Zeke continues, " _Four_ had to borrow some things after practice today. Like shampoo. And deodorant. Apparently he had left them out of his bag." He tosses the boxer briefs at me and I catch them before they can hit me in the face. I gulp, unable to meet his eyes.

And just then, my phone starts to ring. I spring to my feet, trying to run and get it, but it is on my desk and Zeke is closer. He grabs it off the desk and fiercely holds my eye as he answers. "Four," he barks. "Get your ass over here. Now."

I curse under my breath. "Shit."


	47. Chapter 47

_**A/N: I didn't mean to take so long! I'll try to fight the procrastination monster a little harder this time. Thanks for putting up with my slow updates and continuing to read this story. And a huge thank you to those who take the time to leave a review!**_

* * *

 **CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN**

 _Previously (Tris POV):_

 _And just then, my phone starts to ring. I spring to my feet, trying to run and get it, but it is on my desk and Zeke is closer. He grabs it off the desk and fiercely holds my eye as he answers. "Four," he barks. "Get your ass over here. Now."_

 _I curse under my breath. "Shit."_

* * *

 ** _ **FOUR**_**

* * *

Zeke's car is next to Tris's in the driveway, so I park at the curb in front of her house. I take my time locking up my car before I trudge up the driveway like a man on his way to face a firing squad. Zeke was pissed that one time we were dealing with Al spreading rumors, but even then I never heard Zeke growl like he did over the phone a few minutes ago.

When I called Tris, I intended to tell her I couldn't come over tonight. For authenticity's sake, I even told Mom I wouldn't be going out tonight. She was not impressed when I broke that promise not twenty minutes later after hanging up the phone, but she didn't stop me. I kind of hoped that she would have.

There is only one thing I can think of that would have Zeke ordering me over to Tris's house. He must have found out about us. This shouldn't even be such a big deal. Zeke wanted me and Tris to get together, didn't he? Regardless of how much I remind myself of that fact, I still feel that twisting in my gut.

I close the kitchen door silently. Marlene is nowhere in sight, and I can hear music coming from upstairs, so I head for Tris's room, climbing the stairs on light, quiet feet.

"Zeke, just let me―" I hear Tris say as I approach.

Zeke cuts her off. "Nope. Wait for Four to get here."

Through the open door I see my gorgeous, sexy as hell girl sitting on her bed, arms crossed over her chest. She looks properly chastised while simultaneously annoyed. Zeke is in the chair by Tris's desk, swiveling a quarter turn to one side, then the other, but keeping a glare aimed at Tris. _Tris and I aren't doing anything wrong,_ I remind myself. _She and Uriah have been over for months._ I straighten up and walk through the door projecting as much confidence as I can.

"So, what's the big emergency?" I ask, as if I have no clue what this is about, foregoing a proper greeting.

Zeke about levels me with a glare. "About time you got here, Eaton."

I roll my eyes. "It's been…" I check my watch. "Seventeen minutes since you called."

"Felt like hours with him glaring at me the whole time," Tris grumbles, all her annoyance directed at Zeke. I try to reassure her with my eyes as I sit down next to her on the bed, making sure to leave a gap between us.

"You're awfully comfortable here, Four," Zeke says coldly, leaning back in the chair mirroring Tris's crossed arms and looking me up and down.

"I've been tutoring Tris for months." Tris hasn't given me a sign that I should do otherwise and she is the one who needs our relationship to stay a secret.

"I've had a few tutors," Zeke says, spinning in the chair to reach for something on the desk, then swiveling back to face me and tossing three items at my lap, one by one. "But they don't shower at my place or leave their underwear." I catch the items and look down at them. I swallow when I realize that I am now holding my deodorant, shampoo...and yesterday's boxer briefs.

Beside me, Tris scoffs. "Does Missy Palmer ring a bell, Ezekiel?"

Zeke gets a far away look in his eye. "Oh yeah," he says dreamily. "Forgot about her. She was the best tutor ever."

"Yeah, till you failed the test she was supposed to be preparing you for."

Zeke just shrugs. "You're only proving my point, Beatrice. How do you think her underwear ended up being left in my room?"

Tris huffs and defiantly holds eye contact with Zeke. "Fine, _Ezekiel_ , so you found us out. I would have admitted to it half an hour ago if you would have let me. It's not a big deal, anyway."

I have to hide a wince at her last statement. I think I know how she meant it, but it still doesn't feel so great to hear my girlfriend refer to our relationship as _not a big deal_. Especially when it's only one day after I proclaimed, and physically expressed, my love for her.

"Weren't you just trying to get me to ask Tris out, like, last week?" I add helpfully.

I glance between Zeke and Tris and get stuck on the calculating look on Tris's face, like she is figuring something out. Then she huffs, jumps up and shoots across the small room at Zeke and the next thing I know, she's punching him in the arm. Zeke bursts out laughing.

"I got you guys!" Zeke crows, pointing between us. Tris mutters profanity under her breath and comes back to sit by me, this time without a gap between us, her hip pressed against mine. I wrap my arm around her waist and kiss her temple. Zeke sees me and snickers, "Aw, how sweet. How long has this been going on, anyway?"

I look to Tris. "A month or two?" I guess.

Tris nods. "Yeah… sometime after the accident."

"So the whole time I was trying to get you guys together, you were already sneaking around?" Zeke asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Well…yeah," I admit.

"I just don't get why you had to lie about it," Zeke says, looking irritated for the first time since giving up his angry facade. "It wasn't like I was gonna be mad or judge you."

"Maybe you wouldn't," Tris sighs, "but other people would. Uriah and I had broken up after being together for a long time, and people thought we would get back together. Hell, I think Christina still does. And I just, I felt like I owed it to Uriah that he should hear it before everyone else. I wanted to wait for him to wake up so I could tell him first." She runs her hands through her hair anxiously. "Wasn't really expecting that he would wake up thinking he and I were still together."

"I still think you should have told me the truth," Zeke pouts. "You two are, like, my best friends."

"I'm sorry, Zeke," I frown. "You're right. I should have told you." Zeke nods and looks at Tris, but she just shrugs and wraps her arms around herself. I give her a squeeze of reassurance.

"Well, I'm happy for both of you." Zeke grins. "Especially you, Four. About time you turned in the V-card."

"Shut up, Zeke," I mutter, but I can't hold back my grin thinking again about last night. And this morning. I pull Tris a little closer, my thumb rubbing circles on her hip. How I will make it through this week without disobeying Amar's orders, I have no idea. All I want to do right now is tell Zeke to leave, lock Tris's bedroom door, and have my way with her again. Tris has a small, secretive smile on her face too. Happiness washes over me at seeing the contentment on her face. And now Zeke knows about us, maybe we won't have to keep hiding. Like he said, he's been trying to get us together… with Zeke backing us up, maybe Tris and I can tell everyone about us.

But when I look away from Tris again, Zeke is frowning. "The thing is," he says seriously, "Tris was kinda right."

"Of course I was," Tris says at the same time I ask, "What about?"

"She was right about waiting, telling Uriah first," Zeke clarifies. "And I hate to ask this of you but...can you maybe, keep it on the down low a bit longer?"

Tris and I speak at the same time again, this time with Tris readily agreeing with Zeke while I ask, "Why?"

Zeke glances between us. "Four, I'm sorry, I know this sucks. Only, Uriah's not adjusting to all this very well. A lot has changed from what he remembers and Tris has always been his person, you know? I don't know how he's gonna get through this without her."

"I wouldn't get in the way of their friendship," I frown.

"But it will be weird for him," Zeke argues. "He'll feel like you've taken her away from him. It's just too much right now. Give him some time. Please."

"We already agreed on that," Tris assures him. She looks at me, pleading with her eyes. She knows I was reluctant when I agreed to continue keeping our relationship a secret. I'm tired of hiding this. But now both Tris and Zeke think this is what is best for Uriah. I want to be selfish and do what I think is best for _me_ , but I can't say no to her, and it's the least I can do for Zeke after lying to him for so long.

"Fine," I mutter. Zeke thanks me, bumping our fists in camaraderie, and Tris hugs me and kisses me on the cheek. "We can't go on like this forever, Tris," I say quietly in her ear.

"I know," she soothes, arms around my neck. "We won't. Not forever. Just... just a bit longer. Just until Uriah, I don't know, adjusts to everything." Her fingers caress the back of my neck and I close my eyes at the sensation. I wish we were alone. But alone together right now is a bad idea, and at that reminder, I gently remove her arms and step back.

"I'm gonna go," I announce.

"What? Why?" Tris asks in surprise, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. It makes me smile, just a little, to see her reaction. She's adorable.

I hate having to leave her, it's the last thing I want to do. But the state semi-finals are tomorrow. If my performance in tomorrow's game is anything like today's practice, I'll blow my chances of ever having a scout come see me again, let alone hope to receive a college scholarship. And I will need a scholarship if I'm going to get out from under my father's thumb, so I make my excuses. "My mom wasn't thrilled with me running off. I told her I was going to hang out at home tonight. Besides, you and Zeke haven't gotten to hang out in a while, and I gotta rest up for the big game tomorrow."

Zeke snorts in amusement and I know he's remembering how useless I was on the field at today's practice. "Yeah, probably a good idea. We don't need our star quarterback catching the ball with his face because he's all zoned out."

"Shut up," I retort, trying to keep the smile off my face.

"Okay," Tris concedes. "I heard Lauren is having a party after the game tomorrow. Will you be there?"

"Yeah, I think so," I answer, but inside I'm wondering how I can possibly keep my hands (and other things) to myself once I've had a few drinks. "I'll see you tomorrow, Tris."

Tris grabs my hand and pulls me closer, then reaches up on tip-toes and gives me a languid kiss. "See you tomorrow."

As I walk down the hall on my way out, I hear Zeke teasing her in true childish Zeke fashion: "Trissy and Four, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N ― ow!" I chuckle to myself as I slip out the side door.

* * *

By the time I arrive at the victory party on Saturday night, Tris is on the dance floor with Lynn and Shauna. By the way she moves I can see that Tris is already drunk, and I know Lynn must be, too, or the girls would never have managed to talk her into dancing to _Party in the U.S.A._ Actually, I'm not sure that even Tris could be talked into that without alcohol. I take in the short dress that shows off her luscious curves, no doubt something Christina picked out for her. I can't rip my eyes away from the smooth, sensual movements of her body as she dances with the girls. _Fuck._ Seeing her move like that, all I can think of is the way she moved with me the other night. She's so hot. I can hardly keep myself from pushing my way through the crowd and dragging her off to find an empty bedroom. I will have to keep my distance tonight.

If I stay here watching her any longer, I will have an embarrassing situation on my hands (or, rather, in my pants) so I wander in search of the kitchen, looking for a beer. This party is at Lauren's house, so I'm surprised that she hasn't kicked out half our group. I know that she and Tris hate each other, although Tris has not told me what happened between them. I arrived pretty late to the party; I got held up for quite a while after the game, talking to college scouts. Marcus, of course, was there too, acting like an ass with his comments about all the extra perks his son deserves. It was downright embarrassing, but I didn't dare call him out over it. I did, however, manage to quietly apologize to a couple of the scouts when Marcus' attention was occupied by a phone call.

On my way to the kitchen, several girls stop me to congratulate me on the game. I played well ― really well, actually. I do my best to be polite, though the constant delays are beginning to grate on my nerves. I do notice that when Nicole stops me, she touches my bicep and looks up at me through her lashes. It reminds me of Tris's comment about her.

Marlene is in the kitchen when I get there, talking to one of the other cheerleaders. I think her name is Sky, or maybe Skylar. She smiles and waves, and I nod in greeting. I skirt past Peter and a couple of his followers to the cooler on the far side of the kitchen and dig through the ice inside until I pull out a dark brown bottle of beer. After moving out of the way of the cooler and standing across the kitchen island from Marlene, I twist off the bottle top, take the first sip and set it on the counter. I'm opening my mouth to talk to Mar when I am distracted by a hand on my arm. I turn to see Lauren smiling at me.

She is in a bright red dress so short it barely covers her butt. Her make-up is heavy, with ridiculously thick fake eyelashes and lipstick as red as her dress. She is really only held up by her crutches as she wobbles with a high heel on her uninjured foot. "Oh my god, Four, you were amazing out there tonight," she croons. Then in a lower voice, leaning closer to me with support from the crutches, she adds, "and _unbelievably sexy._ "

I don't see it coming, but suddenly she's reaching out and grabbing my ass. I jump back, nearly knocking Lauren over with my sudden movement. "The hell?!" I spit, glaring at her. "Don't touch me, Lauren," I warn through gritted teeth.

"Oh, come on, Four," she tries to laugh my reaction off. "Let me help you _loosen up_ a bit." She reaches forward like she's going to touch my chest. I grab her wrist when she is inches away, stopping her. I take a step back.

"Let me be clear, Lauren," I say in a deadly calm, quiet voice. "I'm not interested." I hear Marlene's quiet giggle in the background. "No matter how short your skirt is or how blatantly you come onto me. So just stop it. Leave me alone, or I won't be as patient or nice in the future."

Lauren huffs and her face twists into the ugliest expression I have ever seen her make. She gracelessly turns around, unable to execute the dramatic spin-and-stomp-away scene she wants to create, and hobbles away.

I scratch the back of my neck and turn back. I reach for my beer only to see Marlene pushing the bottle across the counter to me. I arch an eyebrow at her and she mimics my expression, then suddenly turns and gives a way-too-sweet smile to Peter and thanks him as she takes a bottled water from his hand.

"Drink up and come dance with me, Four," Marlene demands, winking at me. It looks like flirting to everyone else, but I know that is not what is really going on here. I nod and chug half the beer, then meet her at the end of the island. She grabs my free hand and leads me onto the dance floor.

Marlene dances close to me; it feels wrong, like I should only be dancing this close to Tris. But then she starts talking just loud enough for me to hear her over the music, her lips near my ear.

"While you were putting Lauren in her place," Marlene tells me, "I saw Peter open a beer and drop something into it before switching it with yours. I distracted him and switched them back."

I jerk back from her, alarmed. "What do you mean, put something in my drink? What was it?"

"A pill of some sort," she says. "Small, blue. Sort of diamond shaped."

I tense, then nod and thank her. As soon as the song is over, we leave the dance floor and I pull out my phone to consult Google. Before long, I have narrowed down the results and shake my head in disbelief. Marlene is walking by and I grab her arm. I lean down slightly so I can speak in her ear.

"I'm almost positive," I tell her, "that he was trying to slip me a Viagra."

Marlene looks at me, her face somewhere between shock and amusement. "That's one way to get back at you for stealing the attention from the scouts," she snickers, laughing harder with each passing second. "Won't he be surprised when he's the one showing off his little _problem_ to everyone at the party."

I grin back at her and nod.

My eyes scan the room. Tris is still with Lynn and Shauna, and Christina has joined them now as well. I see that Christina and Shauna are whispering to each other and grinning like the cat that got the cream, but Tris's brow is furrowed. I smile across the room at her, but I don't approach her. We need to be careful of how much we are seen together, that it doesn't appear that we are more than the friends we claim to be. And right now, while I'm trying to follow Amar's instructions to "keep it in my pants," I'm thankful for that. Good thing Peter didn't manage to dose me with Viagra.

Over the next hour, I drink two more bottles of beer. I get to spend a little time with Tris when we join in the same game of Drunk Jenga, but Lynn sits between us so I am able to keep a little distance. But after the first game ends, Lynn leaves for a minute to grab more beers. By the time she returns, Tris has gravitated closer to me, and Lynn takes the place on Tris's other side..

We are just starting another game when I hear the laughter and jeers from the guys at the nearby beer pong table. Our circle bursts into laughter when Peter charges past our table, pushing through the crowd. His face is flushed scarlet and even at only a glance, no one is going to miss the pointed bulge in his pants.

He disappears into a hallway that leads to the bathroom. There's no way that cold water will be any help to Peter after what he ingested, and I don't think he's getting out of here without showing his shame to everyone a second time on the way out.

I make eye contact with Tris and we grin at one another. I wonder if Marlene told her what happened, or if she's just happy to see Peter publicly humiliated no matter how it came about. Either way, I love that she is smiling. Her smile is so beautiful. Well, she's always beautiful, and sexy… especially tonight. I suddenly realize that my hand has found its own way to her thigh when Tris shifts slightly closer to me in her chair and her foot runs along my calf. Her hand covers mine on her thigh and her fingers stroke my skin. Every touch is pulling me under. I am tempted to forget Amar's instructions ― it's another 3 days before the championship game...

Will comes up beside me. "Ready to go, man?" he asks.

Thank god he's here to snap me out of those thoughts. I've got to get out of here. Will is my ride home. Like me, he wants to get enough sleep before school tomorrow. Unlike me, he has not been drinking. I wish I could stick around to see Peter embarrass himself for a second time, but it's best if I get out of here before I lose my resolve to keep it hands off between me and Tris.

"Yeah, thanks." I make eye contact with Tris again. "Somebody better get video when Peter comes out of the bathroom."

"Oh, we will," Tris laughs. Lynn smirks and holds up her phone, which is already opened to the camera app, ready to document Peter's escape from the party.

"Good, I'm counting on you," I joke. Then I wave goodbye at everyone and follow Will out of the party.


	48. Chapter 48

_A/N: Merry Christmas! (A couple days early!) I wasn't sure that I'd have this chapter ready before Christmas as it is just such a busy time of year. It's a shorter chapter, but that wasn't for lack of time, it's just how this one worked out._

 _I don't usually do this but I am going to address a guest review here in the author's note. The review was as follows: "_ _Omg , I am very disappointed you hadn't finish this fiction, it is a great story how could you dare to abondone it, you are a good writer dont put a shame on you and thrown all your talent away like this by not giving this story the respect and credit it deserves." First… thank you for the compliment on the quality of my writing, I appreciate that very much! However… the story is (obviously lol) not abandoned. It had only been 2 weeks since my last update which I really think isn't so bad, especially given the craziness of the Christmas season. My updates have been sporadic for a while now, and that's just how it is… I update when I can and would rather make people wait than post something that isn't any good. But the thing that really gets me is to receive a comment like this in a_ _ **guest**_ _review. I'm sorry, but if you're going to say something negative (especially something that literally includes the words "shame on you"... was that necessary?!) at least own it and write from your account so that I have the opportunity to respond!_

 _On with the chapter… I hope you enjoy, and have a happy and safe holiday!_

* * *

 **CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT**

* * *

 ** _ **FOUR**_**

* * *

School today was great. Peter didn't even show up, and I know it was because he was so embarrassed at being laughed out of the party when the tent in his pants made his "situation" clear. True to her word, Lynn showed me the video from after I left the party last night. Peter still had to walk by half the school leaving that house, and everyone saw. The best part was the comment that Tris made in the background of the video, making it clear to anyone nearby that there was good reason the tent in his pants wasn't any larger. I was torn between wanting to high five her, and feeling sick at the reminder that she would know exactly how well-endowed he is not.

My evening will not be as pleasant. It's Wednesday, the night I have my weekly dinner with Marcus. I always go straight to Tris's house after the dinner, but tonight I don't even have that to look forward to as I am still avoiding being alone with her. We did steal a few kisses in a hidden corner of the school earlier today, but I kept it short and more chaste than usual. I don't need to stoke my desire for her any more than what I am already feeling. We just have the championship game left on Friday night. I can't wait for these playoffs to be over. I miss her.

Tonight Marcus has asked me to meet him in an odd location. I had put the address into the GPS on my phone before I left the school after football practice. I followed the instructions exactly, but as I drive down the abandoned streets, I wonder if there was a miscommunication somewhere along the way. This industrial area is not a part of town I would expect Marcus to frequent. Most of the streetlights are burnt out, trash has collected in the street gutters, and many of the old buildings appear to be abandoned.

I pull up the hood on my sweatshirt to shield me from the rain and hop out of my car. Shielding my eyes with my hand, I survey the area, looking for the man I'd rather avoid. Soon I spot him. My father stands half a block away and across the street, the flickering street light above him reflecting off his umbrella.. I look both ways and dash across the street.

Marcus begins to lead me down an alley. It smells like rotting garbage and somewhere down the way, a neon sign reflects red light onto the brick wall opposite. I don't feel safe with Marcus under the best of circumstances, and anything could happen in a place like this. My heart beats in my throat and a shiver runs down my spine.

"We will be meeting with a few of my associates tonight. I trust you know what is expected of you, Tobias?" Marcus hisses. I can't even swallow.

"Yes sir," I croak. I have a million questions in my mind about who these people are and what he means by "associates," and why on earth he would want me to meet with them too. But I don't ask any of them. I don't say another word.

We reach a black door with chipping paint next to the red neon sign, which reads "otty's." It's supposed to say "Scotty's" but half of it is burned out. Marcus pulls the door open and greets a giant of a man with a bald head. He must be the bouncer, and he seems to know who my father is because we pass without a question, although this appears to be a bar and it has to be obvious that I am not of age.

Marcus's "associates" are already here. Two middle-aged guys sit at the table on the far wall, both of them facing the bar's entrance. I know they are the men we are here to see by the way they notice me and Marcus. They go back to their conversation but I just know that they are watching us. With their close cropped hair and the way they hold themselves, I would peg them for cops. But they can't be, or they would have busted me by now. I am a 17-year-old kid in a bar, after all.

"Marcus," the tall one says. "Glad you could make it." He eyes my father, looking skeptical.

"This him?" says the stocky one.

"Yes, this is my son, Tobias" Marcus says. He sounds confident, but lacks the warmth and charisma he usually fakes in any sort of social situation. "In the riveting world of high school football, he is known by the number on his jersey, Four."

The men nod. "We saw your game against Candor Highl a few weeks ago," the tall one says. "You got an arm on you, kid."

"What are your plans after high school?" the stocky one asks. There's a glint in his eye... hungry.

"College," I shrug. "Wherever I get a good scholarship offer."

"Lots of scouts looking at ya?"

"A few," I mutter.

"Don't be so modest, son." Marcus's words are those of a proud father, but the look in his eye is a clear warning. "How many scouts waited to speak to you after last night's game?"

I scratch the back of my neck. The tips of my ears feel hot. "Uh, four," I admit. Marcus prompts me to continue with a menacing look. "Northwestern, Ohio State, Northern Illinois, and Wisconsin"

"Oh, Ohio State," the tall one says with raised eyebrows. He whistles. "Well done, kid. How will you decide? You're a good kid, you'll listen to your old man, won't you?"

"Tobias is very...well-behaved. Aren't you, son?" Marcus smriks. "You wouldn't try to go up against your old man, would you?"

There is only one right answer to this question. Only one thing I can say that won't result in a painful reminder of exactly where I stand with Marcus. "No, sir," I say quietly.

I am left out of the discussion for the rest of the dinner. I pick up that the tall one is called Max and the stocky one is Rigs. I try to pay attention to their conversation, but most of what they're saying makes little sense to me, so my mind frequently wanders to Tris. I don't have a game tomorrow... maybe I can get away with seeing her tonight. Even if things escalate. If I really focus, maybe Amar won't be able to tell. I don't know how to get through these dinners with Marcus anymore without having my time with Tris to look forward to afterward.

Marcus's "associates" leave after half an hour with another reminder to be a good boy and always do as my father says. The entire encounter is odd and leaves me feeling uneasy.

Marcus finishes his hamburger and leans back in his chair. "So," Marcus says, wiping his mouth with the paper napkin, then throwing it down with a look of disdain, "your final football game of the series is on Friday night."

"Yes sir."

Marcus considers me for a moment, his eyes narrowed, cold and calculating. "I need you to do something for me, Tobias," Marcus says.

I swallow. I have no idea what he is about to ask of me, but I know that any request from Marcus is a demand, mandatory and non-negotiable.

"In the third period," my father slowly explains, "you will fail at a pass and turnover the ball to Erudite."

"Sir?" I say, unsure and nervous. "But won't that look bad to the scouts?"

"I suppose you won't have room for other mistakes, will you? You will make both me and the scouts happy, won't you?" Marcus sneers.

"Of course I will, sir." My voice shakes. I don't know what Tris sees in me, I feel so weak and pathetic in this moment.

When I am finally allowed to leave, I endure one last veiled threat from Marcus and cross the dark, wet street to my car, soaking my left shoe in a puddle that has collected in a large pothole. I fumble with my keys until I finally get the door open. When I am seated on the cold leather and closed in the car with the doors locked, I lean my forehead on the steering wheel. It has become almost a ritual to sit this way after a meeting with my father, just taking deep breaths and letting my heart rate slow. All I want is Tris's arms around me.

I lift my head and pull my phone out of my pocket. I managed to put her on my background by using a picture Christina texted me of me, Tris and Zeke together after a football game. While I was in the dinner, I had my mind nearly set on disregarding Amar's instructions, just for tonight.

But I can't now. The pressure has increased tenfold. As much as I would hate myself if I screwed up and let my teammates down in Friday's game, my only choice is to do as Marcus says. I can't just ignore an order from my father. I can pull this off and avoid adding more stripes to the already mangled skin on my back.

I sigh and lean back in the seat and compose a text message to Tris.

4: Hey baby, Mom wants me home again. Sorry I can't make it tonight.

I wait a minute for a reply. When I haven't heard anything back, I toss the phone on the passenger seat, buckle my seatbelt, and put the key in the ignition. Just as I start the car I hear my phone chime.

T: It's fine. See you tomorrow.

I stare at the screen for a minute, feeling uneasy. After a moment of consideration, I send one more message.

4: Can't wait.

When I get home, I grab my spiral-bound notebook to jot down everything I remember from my dinner with Marcus and his associates. But before I start, I check my phone and I frown at Tris's response:

T: Night Four.


End file.
